#it's kinda dark out so i couldn't tell if it was evening or early morning

[unclewaynemunson]

Eddie can hear from Steve's breathing that he's sleeping deeply and he's wondering how the hell he can possibly be asleep right now. His own mind is spinning and he kinda feels like he might throw up soon. Steve went to sleep with his back to Eddie and now Eddie can do nothing but stare at his silhouette in the dark.

He doesn't really understand what happened: they had this big fight and the word slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it did. The one word he had promised Steve to never say to him. And then Steve stormed out and Eddie just fucking stood there, unable to move and nauseous as hell, tears prickling behind his eyes. By the time his brain started working again and he realized he should probably go look for Steve, he could already have gone anywhere.

Half an agonizing hour later he returned; Eddie didn't give a shit about their stupid fight anymore and tried to apologize, but Steve... wouldn't let him. I know you didn't mean it like that, was all he said. It's okay, but I'm really exhausted, so let's go to bed first and talk about it in the morning.

The worst part is that he doesn't know what he should prepare himself for. Steve has never done anything like this before, but Eddie sure as hell recognizes the signs: waving him off, attempting to make him feel safe, so he'll let his guard down and then it'll all come crashing down on him. He can hear his mother's voice again, so clearly that she might as well be standing right at his bedside:

No, of course I'm not mad at you, Eddie. You couldn't help it, it's not your fault.

Have you already forgotten about what you've done, Eddie? Looks like I have to punish you after all.

The worst one had been after his dad got locked up, five whole years of jailtime ahead of him. He had never been behind bars for more than a couple months on end before. And Eddie had been with him when it happened. No, worse: he had run away.

You couldn't help it, Eddie, you were scared, and you couldn't have gotten him out of it anyway.

He had been grateful for his mom's understanding words, had finally lowered his guard when she even made him a hot cocoa before bed. It only took one restless night of sleep until he'd find out what she really thought about him: a coward, a sissy, someone who didn't know what loyalty was. Didn't he love his father? Would he like to see his own dad rot in jail? She was often cruel with her words, but the times she was cruel with her hands were a rarity.

Eddie had never viewed Steve as being anything like his mother, but with yesterday's events in his mind and Steve unreachable on the other side of the bed, he supposes it's more than justified. However shit will go down tomorrow morning, he will most certainly deserve it.

------

He must've somehow drifted off in the early hours before morning, because he wakes up to light pouring through the windows and - an empty space on Steve's side of the bed.

He quietly slips out from under the blankets and tiptoes to the door, but when he peers around the corner, he finds the living room empty. Upon further inspection, the kitchen and the bathroom both turn out to be abandoned as well. Steve's nowhere to be seen. A new wave of nausea washes over Eddie when he realizes that things must be even worse than he was expecting.

He remembers those times, too: the times when his mother would disappear, sometimes for a couple hours, sometimes for days on end. When he was little, he'd get hungry. As he grew older and learned to take care of himself, he'd only get scared. When she'd finally get back, she'd tell him that he shouldn't be so dramatic, that surely she'd told him where she was off to and for how long she'd be gone. Sometimes, she'd even tell him that no, she hadn't been away for three days, she had only gone to the store, what the hell was he talking about?

When the realization hits him that Steve might never come back - the same realization that used to cause the paralyzing fear whenever his mom disappeared - it becomes difficult to breathe. He staggers and stumbles into the bedroom, where he starts randomly pulling the doors of their closets and dresser drawers open in a desperate attempt to see if all of Steve's clothes are still there. His polos are hanging in a neat row in the closet, and his underwear dresser is filled just fine. His toothbrush is still in the bathroom, just like his shaving cream and his medication: that should be enough confirmation that at least he'll come back but maybe that's exactly what he wants Eddie to think and he can't breathe anymore and -

-------

A good night's sleep and a morning run are the perfect cure for just about everything, if you ask Steve. He comes home all sweaty and short of breath, but feeling better than he has in days. His head is clear and yesterday's fight suddenly seems almost insignificant. He opens the door, ready to make some coffee and finally properly talk with Eddie, who was still fast asleep when he left the house two hours ago.

But when he calls out a "Hi, babe!" the apartment stays eerily quiet. There's no trace of Eddie in the kitchen, nor in the living room, and Steve wonders if maybe he has gone out to get some snacks. He shrugs and walks into the bedroom to take off his sweaty sports clothes - and chuckles quietly to himself when he sees the mop of dark curls above the blanket.

'Eddie, it's almost noon, man,' he says while walking up to the bed. It's only then that he notices that all their drawers and closets are opened, as if Eddie had been frantically searching for something.

'Have you been sleepwalking again?'

He goes to sit down on the bed, right next to the lump of the blanket that is Eddie's sleeping body. When Eddie still doesn't move, Steve gently combs a hand over the curls and then pulls back the blanket.

'Hey there.'

He traces a thumb over Eddie's cheek, which finally causes him to jolt up. Steve immediately clocks that there's a look on his face that can only be described as concerning: something frantic and fearful is radiating from those big brown eyes he knows so well.

'You came back,' Eddie sighs out when he sees it's Steve who woke him.

Steve frowns. 'Of course I came back. Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?'

'How long were you -'

There are tears in Eddie's eyes now, and he looks more scared than Steve has seen him look in years.

'Oh, baby, it's okay, I'm here,' he says, opening his arms to catch Eddie in an embrace. 'I was only gone on a run. Yesterday was pretty intense, remember? So I wanted to clear my head while you were sleeping in. I've only been away for two hours or so.'

Eddie slumps heavily against Steve's chest; his whole body is trembling like a leaf.

'What happened, baby?'

'What day is it?'

'Jesus, Eddie, you're scaring me. It's Saturday.'

Eddie lifts up his head; his cheeks are red and puffy and wet.

'Saturday?' Eddie repeats, voice sharp and frantic again. 'Is that true? Are you telling the truth?'

'Yes, what's going on, Eddie? Why would I - oh.' He doesn't need to finish that question to understand exactly what's happening, and he quietly curses himself for being so blind to it. 'Oh, fuck, Eddie, I didn't mean to - I'm so sorry.'

Not giving a shit about his sweaty sports clothes, he pushes Eddie a little bit to make space and crawls under the blanket beside him. He pulls him in his arms, cradling his head with his hand, and keeps repeating sweet-nothings like I'm here and I'm not going anywhere and I love you and I'm sorry for scaring you until Eddie has finally stopped trembling and his breathing is back to normal again.

'You're here,' Eddie finally says. His voice is creaky in a way that's breaking Steve's heart.

Steve leans forward to press a kiss against his temple.

'I'm here,' he repeats. 'And I promise you I would never do anything like the shit your mother used to pull, alright?'

'Watch out with that,' Eddie says. 'I also promised to never call you bullshit.'

Steve utters a sound that's somewhere between a sniff and a huff. 'Was that - a joke? Did you seriously just go from full breakdown to cracking jokes?'

Eddie hums something unintelligible and lets his eyes fall close while he nestles himself into a more comfortable position in Steve's arms.

'Why did you think I would ever do something like your mom?' Steve's question is almost a whisper.

Eddie sighs deeply. 'Because yesterday,' he says, burying his head against Steve's chest. 'It was too easy. You should've been mad, but you forgave me right away. And then you went to sleep with your back towards me and I - I had the whole night to spiral further about it. And then I woke up and you weren't there and - I dunno, my head was running wild, man.'

Too easy. That's exactly what it feels like, sometimes, with Eddie. To hear him say bullshit and know he doesn't do it to intentionally hurt him. To have a fight and know that they still love each other through it all. To come home in the apartment they share and have coffee together every day. It's too easy, too good to be true. Not something either of them ever thought they could have with someone. But they do. Even if they both take their damaged hearts with them. Even if they've both been raised on cruelty instead of love. Maybe it's not too easy after all; maybe they simply need to learn the difference between easy and too easy. Maybe easy is exactly what they deserve to share with each other.

Steve brushes some stray hairs out of Eddie's face. His cheeks are still swollen and his eyes are red. And it's never been easier to love him.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fruity ficlet #tw child abuse

[m00nsbaby]

Therapy.

(Marc Spector x F/Reader.) Warnings - Tags: Mentions of abuse, violence. Marc is kinda mean. (until he isn’t lol) Angst, but not that bad. Mentions of Steven. Word count: 960. Summary: The change was so sudden that you started to question if there was someone within it that you weren't counting on. That, or your best friend had been replaced with a highly unconvincing double. Because for exactly 4 months now, Marc Spector had been nothing but smiles.

You realized on an ordinary Thursday. Both of you were comically bumping into each other in Steven Grant's small kitchen, but he was two moves away from losing his patience.

You insisted on taking care of things yourself, and he refused, so stubborn that you had no other choice. Now, when your bodies collided and the plate in your hands went flying through the air, crashing loudly onto the floor, you stood there in complete silence, staring at him.

It was just a few seconds before your physical memory took over, expelling all the air from your lungs in a sigh. Here it comes.

You wondered what it would be this time. "I told you so" or "Look what you did," perhaps just a "Move" to get you out of the way and handle it himself without your interference.

"I'm so sorry." That's what came out of his mouth.

And you turned to him as if you had heard the filthiest word he could have uttered.

"Ah?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he bent down to pick up some of the broken pieces of the plate. Dark curls falling on his face as he squinted to locate every ceramic shard on the floor.

And that was your strangest interaction with Marc. Even after he talked to you about Khonshu, or about Steven.

Marc Spector has all those little and big points that people refer to when they ask you to promise to stay above everything else.

Sometimes it's the shouts. What was so striking about the whole situation with the plate was that you expected Marc to shout at you as he always did when he lost his patience, regurgitating the words his mother once said to him.

You had figured it out a long time ago, but you would never tell him what he was doing.

Other times, it's avoidance. Another thing you discovered over time is that Marc was engrossed in the idea of not allowing himself to feel any kind of affection for anyone. Not after Layla.

Romantic or not, he wouldn't allow himself to have his heart broken again. He couldn't bear the thought that someone would make him believe he wasn't as broken as he thought, only to prove him wrong.

Even after so many years together, his mind plays tricks on him. Sometimes he wakes up and decides that he no longer wants you in his life because the fact that you're his first thought upon waking up is terrifying. Or because he found himself smiling while responding to your silly 23rd message of the day, or because there isn't a spot in his house that isn't marked by you and how careless you are with your things.

So, he stops responding. He stops visiting. He stops existing. At first, it was worse, though. He disappeared enough to make you believe he was dead. Since then, the duration of these periods without him has decreased. The last time was just before this change, a week without any signs until he showed up at your door in the early hours of the morning with a bloodied t-shirt and a bruise on his eye.

The arguments, the alcoholism, that habit of blaming you because he can't stay away from you and accusing you of putting yourself in danger by being his friend as long as he continues to work with Khonshu, the number of times you've had to promise him that his alters are not more important to you than he is, the constant insecurity, his inability to communicate in a healthy way, and the fact that he never lets you use the blue plastic cup from his cupboard.

But you never wavered in your decision to stay. He never hurt your feelings; he just took care of filling a little jar inside you every time you realized how worried you should be about him.

And for the first time in years, you're seeing a favorable change in him that makes you feel good.

"You have to tell her, Marc." Steven's desperate voice echoes in his head, his own reflection doesn't look much better. Worry is imprinted on every part of his body.

That's what's been going on behind the scenes for the past 4 months.

"Why, huh?" Marc's aggressive tone is a good reminder that they are two different people, even though they share the same body. "So she can leave? Like Layla did, or like Mom did." The latter part is figurative; he was the one who left.

"She can help you."

"Steven." The mercenary runs his hand over his face a couple of times in despair. And it's not the other's fault for not seeing things his way. After all, even though they were as transparent as possible with each other, Steven would never know the emotional burden Marc carries. "Do you know how terrible it is to burden her with that responsibility? I don't want to drag her down with me."

And finally, the other falls silent. He understands.

Another gulp of his whiskey, and he's finished the bottle. "Well, I feel better." He thinks to himself now that the alcohol has clouded his mind enough to forget why he was crying in the first place.

That was his therapy, and it was proving to be quite fruitful from his perspective. Of course, on the days he wasn't with you, he would drink until he couldn't remember or until a burst of anger made him break a few things. Sometimes a lamp, sometimes his wrist from hitting the wall in an ill-proportioned strike.

But ever since he started lying to you, everything felt better in some way.

It was better until we reached exactly 5 months.

Only one thing had been treated suspiciously seriously with this radical change in Marc, and that was that visits were always scheduled. With a text message, a phone call. In fact, if you could send a carrier pigeon, Marc wouldn't even question why; he would just appreciate being informed that you were about to arrive at his apartment.

"Marc?" Your voice sounded on the other side of the door after two small knocks.

The bottle fell from his hands in a thunderous crash. His first reaction was to check his phone to make sure he hadn't missed any of your messages.

Nothing.

"I have Steven's book, the one he lent me." Somehow, your voice tensed his whole body, an anger he hadn't felt in... Well, not that long, maybe last week. "Can you let me in?"

No, he couldn't.

He felt like a mouse trapped in a glue trap; his feet wouldn't respond. How would he deal with your worried expression when you realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks and the smell of alcohol permeated his small apartment?

He chose not to open the door. He would stand there, waiting for you to leave.

Although the other occupant in his body disagreed, and he would let him know.

A few seconds later, and precisely the sight he didn't want was in front of him.

You, with your eyes fixed on him. Your brow furrowed and the small pout that formed on your lips whenever you felt worried.

Steven had given him the push. Although he almost vomited as he relived the sensation of the first few times they switched without realizing it, combined with the alcohol, of course.

"Marc?" You whispered his name for the fifth time, and his stomach churned even more.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, the book." You waved it in your hand without taking your eyes off Marc, who seemed seconds away from breaking down in tears.

"You didn't let me know." His voice cracked. "Leave."

Well, there was the Marc Spector you knew.

"Leave, go." He placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you back enough to be able to close the door. And of course, the Moon Knight had skills, but being drunk wasn't much of a help.

It wasn't difficult for you to slip under his arm and enter the apartment again.

The slam of the door made you flinch, but once again, he would have to drag you himself if he wanted to keep you away from him at a time like this.

"Tell me what's wrong, Marc. Just tell me, I can help you."

"You can't!" Steven's look on the other side only irritated him further. He looked at him as if he believed Marc capable of hurting you, and surely he did. "You can't, you can't help me." His voice broke again, and the tears finally started to flow down his face.

You raised your hand slowly, intending to touch his cheek, but he took a step back.

With fear.

"I won't hurt you." That's all that came out of your mouth. /What's it like living to fight when every blow leads you to a traumatic memory that marked your entire life?/ You think as you see him so vulnerable.

Because Marc doesn't think about the damage Khonshu has caused to his body over and over again. He thinks about his mother's angry gaze and the burning pain of the blows full of contempt, which hurt a thousand times more than those from a stranger in battle.

He takes a step closer to you, just enough for you to rest a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing his jawline as delicately as you can. His eyes close, and his head tilts to seek your touch.

"We're best friends, Marc." He furrows his brow at your words but keeps his eyes closed. "You can trust me."

"Don't leave." His voice is so soft that for a moment, you have to check if you're dealing with Steven. It's not difficult; Marc's body is always tense.

It breaks your heart to see how unstable he is when these things happen. In seconds, he changes his mind, and you don't know if it's just his brain or the alcohol in his system.

"Don't leave, please." He repeats with a sob.

"You have to tell me what's going on." You don't want to pressure him. You never have, but you have no way of comforting him if you don't know what's happening.

His arms slowly extend, encircling your waist as he holds you tightly against his body. He's begging for a hug, and you give it to him without hesitation, even though you feel the air escaping from your lungs as he tightens his grip.

Marc has a moment to realize how bad things are with you. His body is familiar to you; Steven's love language is physical—he hugs you, holds your hand, plays with your hair, and other things. But for Marc, your body is uncharted territory.

He doesn't know that his arms seem to be made for embracing you, or that your shampoo smells like honey and it's easy to catch a whiff of it by breaking the distance a little.

"You can't go." This time he whispers as his breathing seems to calm down. "Don't go, and I'll be fine."

It's a lie, and both of you know it.

Was it time to confront it?

"Marc, I can't." This time your voice comes out almost inaudible.

His arms tighten around you; he doesn't want to let you go. But you don't mean that.

"I can't end this." He hates how coherent you are. How stable. "I wish I could take away all your pain. Truly." For the first time, you feel his body relax as your fingers run through his messy curls. "But I can't stop this. You need to understand that."

He sniffles, and you wonder if he's still crying. He won't let you see his face while you're in his arms, but he nods.

"I couldn't wish for anything more than for you to be happy." His weight starts to wear you out, but you won't complain out loud. "I'm worried." It's good for him to hear it rather than having to decipher the expression he has memorized. "I'm so worried. You need help."

Marc nods again, and the hug starts to loosen.

"I love you."

This time, it's your body that tenses.

"What?"

"I love you." And for the first time in a long time, when Marc confesses his feelings, there are no tormenting memories behind him or ghosts from his past telling him, /You know what's going to happen./

Maybe this is a new memory. A good one, in some way.

"I've loved you since you broke my favorite mug." Marc tries to laugh; it's one of those times when you exhale loudly through your nose accompanied by a broken smile.

You remember it well. It was one of those times of "Look what you did." Never in a million years would you have imagined that your best friend would treasure that memory in his mind.

You finally lift your head; you want to confront him, but his lips are on yours before you can react.

Automatically, you close your eyes, savoring the taste of tequila and the mint of the stupid chewing gum he uses to calm his anxiety. Your fingers still in his curls, messing them up even more as he arches your back again with the force he uses to hold your waist in his arms.

"I love you," you mumble against his lips as best you can. It feels like lifting a thousand bricks off your back.

"It's too early," you complained against his chest. You could feel him scoff by the way your head moved. It made you laugh too. "Baby, it's already 12 PM," you could hear his smile as he spoke, and you hugged him closer to you. "No nightmares?" "Not at all. I dreamt about us having the cutest puppy ever," he said, marking three months without nightmares."I really have to get up." "What time is your appointment?" "It's in about three hours, so move," he laughed again as he finally pushed you out of his arms, making you complain one last time. "We should celebrate." There was no hint of joking in your voice, just a sincere smile as you watched him get up and search for his shirt somewhere on the floor. "One year in therapy is a big deal." "Do you think they make 'I'm glad you don't cry until you fall asleep anymore' cakes?" He pressed his lips together as he stared at you, trying not to laugh. "You are an idiot, you know that, right?" You were definitely going to bake that cake and decorate it with pink frosting while he wasn't at home. "Yes, I know." He leaned in a little, enough to rest his forehead against yours. "I love you." The words rolled off his tongue easily. It had been like that for a while now. "I love you," you whispered back, kissing his lips briefly. "Now move, or you're going to be late."

#marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #Moon Knight #Moon System #moon boys #moon knight x reader #marvel #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon system x reader #moon boys x reader

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / 6: DEVOUR

Chapter 5 / Masterlist

Summary: 4.5k, f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, brattamer!joel

It didn’t even feel like fucking anymore. Yes, it was filthy and harrowing, but it was beckoning more than lust, desire. Love? Fuck. You can’t do this love again. You couldn’t shell out your body and not find the pieces to put yourself back together because they've been taken and devoured by him.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, cum eating, car sex, anal play, dominate & aggressive joel, slight stalker!joel, pet names, praise kink, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth + WAY MORE. This is filthy. Gotta feed you after being gone for so long.

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter. Maybe. I kinda went feral. Love you <3 Let me know what you think & what’s gonna happen to these two.

"I need your teeth in me, slow and vicious, to tell me my armor is just skin, bones, only bones. Try to be gentle when you rip me apart.”

- Jamaal May

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You woke up that morning (the second time), around 10AM on Joel Miller’s couch. He was standing at the counter, back to you. His shoulder blades flexing under his thin shirt. His hair was getting long, kissing the nape of his neck. It was curly at the ends, too. Ruffled, reminiscent of hands being flushed through it. Yours. You wonder now if he’d let it grow or would let it meet its end.

Was this your end?

Turn around Joel.

Please.

You started to open your mouth but he spoke up. “Didn’t want her t’see you in my bed.”

He still hadn’t turned, his voice silently echoing against the tiled back wall of his kitchen. It was soft, still commanding in its baritone. He wasn’t angry anymore… couldn't have been. He had already accepted the invitation and stored it away for later, too. He sat a cup of coffee in front of you and sat across from you at his table. He bent down beside you and whispered, “She hasn’t come out yet. I swear to God f’she heard you fucking screaming last night I—“

Sarah’s bedroom door shook closed. She was walking down the stairs now, fake yawning as if she had only opened her eyes seconds before. She looked tired, as if someone had been keeping her up all night. The chair creaked beneath Joel’s thighs as he settled backwards into it, tearing himself away from your reprimand.

Of course he was mad. Delusional. That’s what this was. Sneaking around your best friends house, fucking her dad? And the thing was, it didn’t even feel like fucking anymore. Yes, it was filthy and harrowing, but it was beckoning more than lust, desire. Love? Fuck. You can’t do this love again. You couldn’t shell out your body and not find the pieces to put yourself back together because they've been taken and devoured by him.

He had made a permanent indentation in his bed with your body, fucking you into it, and then he carried you down the stairs and to the couch like it was nothing, right past her door. Like you hadn’t been dripping on the dark hardwood the entire time he carried you here. Like your muffled screams fell silent to other ears.

Fuck.

He would, too— devour you. And you would sit at his feet and watch as he chewed the love from your ribs. “Thank you, Joel. Thank you. Please, more. Take more of me.”

His snarl when he realized it was you. How angry he was that you were making him do something like this; taking his daughter's best friend and filling her womb with himself, in the most selfish way he could think to tie himself to you. But if that didn’t give, then the raised skin of his initials would do. How dare you open that door and guide him to temptation, as if he wasn’t completely releasing himself into it already? Into you. Onto you.

She hit the bottom step and looked around the living room. “You’re up early.” It was directed at you, but she turned to Joel and spoke in his direction, mirroring him a million times before as her chin tilted slightly down— eyes settling upwards. Big, brown eyes beckoning. And then seconds later her face softens and she gives you both the “I’m not fucking oblivious to this” look.

You laid there and listened to them go about their morning, in his safe space. He smiled real big when he realized she was still happy to see him, of course. Why wouldn’t she be? This has been a man who stood between her and anything that could ever possibly hurt her. He was her shield. And it hurt, still. That he couldn’t really be yours. He was undressing you, instead. Taking off the metal plating and throwing it to the ground. And it was hard to remember that this man was years your senior, your dad’s best friend. He was someone who had been following you for months, paying you to defile your frail body for him. He had hunted you down and sunk his teeth into your skin, bone, marrow. His fingers into your mouth and through the desperation of your thigh.

He scratched his way into your life and you let him, because he feels so good. It was so hard to remember that he was not a good man. Despite his reverence to Sarah’s being. Despite the hole he’s dug through your chest.

Joel Miller was a murderer in his own regard. He hunts you out and down, gets what he wants and then serves you a slow, painful, death. You were sure of it.

Why can’t you be a good man?

Why can’t I have a good man?

You ate breakfast together, the three of you sitting at their two-person table. You were in the middle, one knee touching him and the other, Sarah. He felt of fire, every inch of his denim that touched your naked knees. It rubbed against the rawness of last night, where you were looking up at him, mouth stuffed, praying to him. His cock, as it slid languidly down and up your throat. “Birdie,” he whispered into your hair over and over. Fists full of you. A prayer, a question, a deep rumbling.

Birdie Birdie Birdie.

“Birdie.”

You returned to yourself and realized he was trying to get your attention. It dawned on them that he had just called you the girlish nickname in front of his daughter. It was a moment too late, already it passed his lips and christened the air around him. The melody in his voice changed.

Sarah dropped her fork and it rang through the plate, sending fissures through the porcelain as it echoed the quiet room.

“Who?”

“I’ve called people that before. C’mon. Jus’ like I used to call… fuck what’s her name? Hanna. Just like I used to call Hanna, Ladybug? Remember? Jus’a nickname Sar.”

Excuse me?

“You know exactly why I’m upset. It wasn’t just a nickname for her Dad. You know that.”

“Just a fucking nickname, Jesus.” He was angry that he was being questioned. Outed.

Caught.

It made sense they held secrets for each other. Ones that only swim to the surface during fights. You sat at the two-person table, three people deep. You, sitting outside of your body while the real you is turning your head towards Joel, now. Eyes eating into his own, gnawing on the beauty of them. You try to figure out who the fuck Hanna is. If she’s played this same game before, too. How far did she get? How far was Joel’s cock inside of her? How did he find her?

How old was she?

Sarah was quiet during breakfast. Everyone was. You cleaned the dishes and she rubbed them dry, silently beside you. Joel left as soon as the last bit of ketchup and hashbrowns left his plate. He walked out of the doorway and sat in his chair in front of the TV. He turned the volume out and pretended like he wasn’t leaving his girls to figure it out. He would let you do the hard part.

He always does.

“Sarah, I—“

“Do you know who Ladybug is? He didn’t tell you, did he? He didn’t fucking tell you. I knew it. I knew it,” your name passed out of her chest violently. “He got you too, he got you. I to—He promised me he wouldn’t do it again I-I—“

Suddenly she was too worked up for it to stay between the two of you. Joel’s voice carried from the living room as you hurried after her trying to meet him in the middle. Her fingers already pointing in his direction as he walked towards her with his arms out.

“Joel Miller, you fucking perv—“ calling him by his name.

“Sarah. He hasn’t done anything bad to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to but I feel held with him. ‘Member the conversation we had? About how you somehow understood that he and I are similar in a way I haven’t been able to find with anyone else. He— he takes care of me.”

She winced, visibly hit.

“I’ll bet he does.” She spat.

“Hey, s’not like that baby girl.” He was begging.

“Get out of my fucking house, Birdie.” She mocked, completely ignoring anything falling out of your mouth.

So you sat down the dish silently and walked towards the door.

You. You were the first casualty of war. Not even him. Never him. He gazed into you, seeing you. Like he usually did, but never said.

“She was my babysitter and she was his little Ladybug, Birdie,” she spit. You were still in a locked gaze with Joel, body halfway out of their front door.

He turned and looked away.

You walked out of the door.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

It had been two months and 26 days since he carved his initials into your begging flesh. A scrappy ‘JM’ slightly sideways, now slightly raised on your inner thigh. You found yourself tracing it sometimes, wondering if you left any invisible marks on him. Probably not. Your skin is pink and soft, new. It has spent its days tucked away against your heat, hidden from the light. From the man who put them there. Whenever you were sleeping that night, he must have invisibly carved himself into you a thousand more times, because your skin is festering in his absence. His fingertips, name, gripping hands, all falling into the creases of him, left upon you. Long ago bruised and now just scabbed over in refusal to let you return to that night.

That’s what I felt like every single time you texted Sarah, “Can we talk? Please?” or, “I am sorry, please let me explain. Miss you.” She never reads them, infact, they never get to her. She blocked you. And that hurt so much more than just leaving you on read.

Suddenly your skin is ripped open again, by the teeth of your own guilt. Of another lie added to the bracket. But alas, you return home, lock the door, and let him free again in the only way you can— by stripping yourself naked and opening your thighs to the light.

It’s easier to hold a funeral when it's your own. Here lies yet another person who didn't save you— who didn’t stick around to see it through. Whatever it was.

You've been discarded before, it wasn’t a new phenomenon. Rather it was one your chest is familiar with— knows the aching well. Although oftentimes you weren’t even left, just sat to the side, unnoticed and quiet. No one had really done you the favor of actually leaving, never really departing; all still loosely lingering around, almost like they were orbiting you. A distant star in the night sky. Then, like a meteorite, Joel. He became your refuge, a far-off celestial body that crashed into yours. Free from the chaos, cradling you in his arms.

He wasn't just a mosaic of broken mass and matter forcibly reassembled; thrown and kneeled like dough. He embodied the resilience of stardust, a reminder that matter never truly vanishes but transforms into something or someone new. Filtered through fingers above to loosen their ties to who they were before, or what. Joel was something before, to you. Maybe on another plane, he was bending you over his knees right now. His hand kissing your skin— Good morning, Birdie. His touch a gentle caress against your skin, with a warmth that felt like the first rays of dawn. Warmth that would completely devour the incessant nightmares. And the truth of him.

Wake up.

Another nightmare.

They never really ended, the fucked up silver screen tucked tightly against your hippocampus, played on and on. They seethed and sang their screamed pain to the night. Bursting out in missing, of emptiness and holiness (not of the Godly kind).

There was a hole, burrowing itself into your breastplate, spreading and grasping for whatever it can grab hold of, inching ever closer to your heart. You screamed his name like it came directly from him, like he planted it there, kissed it on its forehead goodnight, a silent promise, and then walked out the door and never returned. It was kind of like that— his leaving, the absence of him. So your brain held close whatever it still could and replayed it to you every night. It felt like dying. Like wanting to rip-the-wall-open-and-set-yourself-in-there-too, dying. Plaster over yourself and have some professional match the paint color perfectly, so that it's as if you were never gone from him or his room, dying. His ruined sheets on behalf of your body. Rotting.

Joel told you that he wouldn’t clip your wings, not just yet. What had set off the ‘yet’? He was haunting you, now, the whispers of his voice fading more each day. You thought about that morning so much that you haven’t been present in your own, in weeks.

You haven’t painted in weeks, either. They were sitting against your wall in your childhood room, not even able to face the outside world. Just the canvas beside it. A mirror.

You had been writing more though, filling pages of a journal you didn’t even know you had. The cover was foiled, gold and glistening. Water Serpents l, Gustav Klimt, 1907. You’d always preferred Water Serpents II. Where the fuck did this come from?

Sarah probably left it here in the beginning of summer. She came over daily, helped you unpack. Laughed with you. Held you in that way. Took pictures of you amongst your things.

“You’re like… a big girl now.” She said.

You’d always had a poster of Der Kuss hanging above your bed. It moved with you, from your room to a dorm room, apartment, and back. On her knees for him, engulfed in him. Her feet hanging over the edge, facing some other reality. He held her head in his large hands and kissed her Goodbye. Goodnight. Drift softly into the night.

I imagine he stayed on his knees and watched the flowers shrivel. First, the ones upon her dress and hair, then he picked every single flower in the field they graced and watched them shrink and gasp for life, too. But he stayed.

You remember Dr. Andrews, walking to center stage of the auditorium on a foggy Wednesday morning, four semesters ago. It was 45 minutes into a 3 hour chapter titled: Byzantine Frescoes: Life In Gold. “Each work aids final comprehension of the allegory, which represents the mystical union of spiritual and erotic love and the merging of the individual with the eternal cosmos.” That of Der Kuss. Eternal cosmos.

You felt as if you were meant to be with him. Regardless of the rage you felt towards him. How he had just magically been there at every intersection of your life, thus far. How your parents loved him. Sarah. Meeting her again, or the first time even. All synchronicities pointing to the both of you. Joel and Birdie, sittin’ in a tree.

Whenever you felt control slipping, you would write down the words of someone else. Sometimes it was too hard to find your own in the strung-together way you wanted them. But people have been talking, crying, wailing into the night, since forever ago. You found something that stuck a key into your heart and opened it. This fell out:

“I hated him because I could not remain detached, could not remain standing at the top of the stairs watching him depart. I felt myself going down with him, within him, because his pain and flight were so familiar to me. I descended with him, and lost myself, passed into him, became one with him like his shadow.”

- Anaïs Nin, Winter of Artifice

Your pen gave out, stopping its bleeding before you even reached the end of shadow.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

You had been at home a lot more the past couple of weeks, in a perpetual state of ‘no-call-backs’ from jobs and The Miller’s. You hid from arguing like you’d never left. Like you weren’t nearly 25 years old. You listened to wildfire over and over.

“Been home longer than expected. Looking for a job or just gonna stay here forever?”

“Yeah, Dad. No one is calling back. I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.” He always says it under his breath, not even looking you in your fucking eyes.

Yeah. Not hard enough.

“How ‘bout you ask Joel if you can work for them as some assistant or something?”

You try not to outwardly scoff. “I’m not talking to Sarah right now. Please don’t invite the Miller’s to anything, just for a while.” You knew exactly what was coming up. But you turned to him and looked in his eyes— something you shied away from him most days, thinking that sudden reveal would get your point across. He spoke before you could, again.

“What’d you do this time?” He looked away.

*₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

It didn’t surprise you one bit when Joel fucking Miller, in the biting flesh, walks past you in your own backyard, three months and 28 days later. Eyes tearing into where another man’s hand rested upon the small of your back, rubbing soft circles into your skin. John caught his eye, his fingers releasing from your skin upon Joel’s wandering scowl.

Looks like he wasn’t expecting him either.

John was standing at your side. You decided you’d meet him first, as to not have a reply of the last time you met one of your customers. He actually lived a few houses down, your other too-old-for-you neighbor. How funny. He walked up to you one day when you were getting the mail.

“N’ what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here barefoot? Gonna hurt those soles.”

You decided that you haven’t felt full in a while. You wanted to feel it again, the tickling stretch of someone sliding into you. Even if the entire time you try not to sing the song of another man.

Eh. He fits the bill.

So now his feet (boots) were slowly sinking into the September grass in your parents backyard. He was five beers deep. You, about three or so. Enough. It was the best you could do under the circumstances.

In reality, he came because he thought he might be able to get you alone in the room he’d seen so many times through the computer screen. Smell your sheets, your room, your pussy.

In reality, you just invited him in hopes that Joel would be here. That he would see you around another man and realize the mistake he’s made by not choosing you, too.

You were mid-sentence, explaining what a BFA is to some other neighbor and you felt as if you could hear him growling from across the yard. You would sway yourself just the way you know he liked- especially when your family was involved. Oh, it angered him. That you should be so bold in front of your own father. In front of this man. But he was ignoring you, so why wouldn’t you try and regain his attention?

“Did I leave my wallet in your truck?” John put on his thinking face. “Don’t think so, but here, go look.” He handed you the keys. Coulda came with you at least. You lead yourself back inside and out of the front door. His car is about 4 back. You see Joel’s navy truck a few more back and you catch yourself staring for too long.

As you attempt at unlocking John’s truck, your knees are suddenly pressed onto the footstep, arms spread against the leather seat. And then Joel’s smell is all around. His nose is poking your ear and his gray stubble is poking into your face.

“How fucking dare you? I give you space and this is how you spend it? Stuffing another man’s dirty cock into my cunt?” His back is lowered, attempting to match your height, pointing and spitting about. “If you wanted to be fully stuffed you should have just asked, Birdie. But I get whatever hole I want and he can have whatever’s open. I didn’t know you wanted me to share you, baby.”

You felt full of his voice, even at its melting whisper. You missed bulging full of him.

“I woulda at least ask you not to choose one of my coworkers. Actin’ like a fucking slut.” He whispered the last part, but not quietly enough. “Gonna take care of him later, been wanting to since I saw that you followed hi—“

He was so angry he was giving away his secrets, the way he had still been keeping up with you. You were pulsing.

But… he was looking at you, was paying attention to you. And you hadn’t looked into his soul in so long. You fought against his palm, as it filled the expanse of the back of your head, hair and all. Your cheeks pushed against the seat of John’s truck.

You hear Joel sigh in impatience, then he drops his belt.

He pulls his hands away so he can pull up your dress and he moans as his thumb pushes your thong away from your holes, tickling them. He hooks his thumb in front of you, against the hood of your clit and holds it in place. A constant rush of pressure originating from where his wet finger is pushing. You rut your hips against it and he moans as you breathlessly look up and around at him, eyes widening and eyebrows raising at the feeling of his presence on your body.

“Look into my eyes.”

How could you? How could you possibly focus on the lifting of his lips and his tongue meeting his teeth when his arms were gracing himself, wrestling heavily against his chest, stomach, fully. His cock, long and full. Slightly less straight. A little off. Just like him. Just like you liked it.

He turns you over on your back, lifting you up so that your naked ass meets leather, fully in another man’s truck. He sets you further inside and then looks at you. His cock jumps to meet your gaze and he lets you take it in.

“Been thinking about this.” You try to reach out and touch the veiny girth of it. The heaviness.

“Mm, nuh uh. Not being a very good girl, are you? Told y’ to shut up didn’t I?”

No. And you know he would never. Likes hearing you whimper for him too much.

You scoff and he dips into you in fever, his nose is kissing your clit, unable to get out of the way as his tongue pokes into your slobbering hole. You are every one of his senses. His fingers in your cunt, stretching the soft tissue between your legs. The taste of your warmth on his tongue, pooling. The wetness that got into his nose.

If anyone were to be looking, from most angles it looks like he’s lost something in his floorboard. Until someone moves too closely and sees Joel Miller with his face buried in someone’s daughter's pussy.

He hears something and removes his dripping mustache from your cunt. He then spits on it and lets it talk to him as his veined and heavy cock slips through the cream he’s making of his precum, collecting it with his pretty pink, angry, tip before he slides it back down your slit, covering every inch with himself.

It felt good to sing for him again.

“Oh Birdie, just like that, sounds so good whipping up your pussy’s excitement with my cock, don’t you? Filthy lil’ thing. Gonna make it wetter n’ cover it in my cum, too, okay?”

He reaches down and fingers at your pussy, pushing himself deeper into you and thumbs where you are gripping his cock. He spits down on it. “She missed me.”

“Need you t’ fill me up.”

“Already begging? Don’t wanna get caught in his truck, do you?” He was mocking you now. “Baby girl, that’s just not good enough.”

“Need-need daddy to fill me to the brim with his fucking cum. Let me have it, sir, please. Plea-“

“Show me who you belong to.”

You widen your legs further and let the orange streetlights filling the car shine on his initials.

“There you go baby.” He growls as he fucks his thick length inside of you, letting go as deep as he can as your pussy clenches around his sputtering cock.

He stops looking at your hole clenching onto him as hard as possible and is instead watching his initials in the jiggling fat of your inner thigh. He grabs it, rubs his fingers over the skin.

His thighs are even thicker from this angle. He moans towards the sky but forces himself to look back down, just as his cum falls from his slit and falls down to your open mouth. He lets go of his cock and lets it throb independently, shooting more of himself into his plump stomach. He’s dripping down himself, coating his own skin.

“Uh uh uh.” His voice catching in his throat every single time the skin between his heavy balls and asshole contract and expand, throbbing.

He admires as the cum chokes back out of your tight pussy as he pushes himself in and out, then removes himself. He watches it slide down and kiss your puckering asshole and decides to finger it back into your cunt, tsk-ing at you.

“Gonna let it drip down to your pretty asshole and not even fuck it back in baby? After all that work? Let me do it for you. Relax n’ let me fuck you here, too.” He slides his thick finger into your ass and lets out a low groan as it swallows him.

He pops himself back out, gently cooing praises at you.

“Whose Hanna?”

“That’s none of your fucking business, Birdie.”

“Is that so? Shouldn’t I have a right to know? Am I just another victim of you and your inability to show the fuck up?”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Daddy showing up to your little party and making a mess in your little hole?”

“Joel.”

“I never fucked her.”

You stared at him.

“Get down there and clean up your fucking mess.” You deserved this. You weren’t being good for him, asking questions.

You pulled your dress down as he tucked himself away. He held your hair back and grabbed your jaw, aligning it with his cum on the black leather seats.

“Now lick.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.•

I know I’m missing some of you on the taglist, I’m sorry!! I need to come up with a better way of doing it.

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rubyfruitjungle @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @silkiers @gracevn @scarletsloveletter @livingdeadmaria @morallyinept @kittenprincess710 @jubilee82 @cool-iguana @vickywallace @capitulo3-celos @taeslarityy @moonlightdreamingworld @worhols @milla-frenchy @sheepdogchick3 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @justagalwhowrites @bratty-lxndry444

#pedro pascal #joel miller #carnal #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #pascalsbby #carnal!joel #pervy!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #bfd!joel #stalker!joel miller #smut #Fic rec #pedro x you #pedro x reader #angst #slow burn #fast burn #ao3 #dbf!joel #pedro pascal x you #dark!joel #Sarah miller

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Six) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf @mcuclintasha

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, jealousy, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: I listened to Boyfriend by Dove Cameron to write this, so... I think you can assume how this vibes. You simply have this man WHIPPED, I will not take any further questions. Thanks for reading :)) ]]

Your eyes were hazy, something warm coming across your skin, as you followed the empty hallways. Well, not empty.

Rick was there, Judith carefully held in his arms -every once in a while, he'd lean down to kiss her forehead. The casual affection took you somewhere else for a moment, like watching your grandparents in the kitchen just so natural in each other's spaces -so domestic. When you were younger, reading books about extravagance -big gestures and life-threatening situations, your mind had settled on the balance of fairytales.

Who wished for a lackluster ending? Who wanted to dance in the kitchen too early in the morning, instead of the adventure of a lifetime? It hadn't made sense then.

But watching him now, gentle and bouncing around the room, you'd realized somewhere deep within yourself... maybe you had.

The idea of a home, where the sun seeped through curtains and the smell of breakfast wavered out through the air. Smiles, and playgrounds. Movie nights, and the whispers of promises of forever.

Your brain fogged, and you blinked to try to clear your head. Even just for a solid second, you still found Rick in your eyesight. And maybe he was dusted in dirt, and his hair wasn't washed, but the idea with him made much more sense. You just couldn't chance the thought, not in this world.

"You're drooling."

Clearing your throat, you turned to the intruder -Michonne, her smile small but still enough, "Very funny."

She paused, eyes focused on you for a second -like she could tell you were off. Straightening in her seat, she fully faced you -concern furrowed in her brow, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you echoed, eyes drifting to the pair - imagining the warm glow of a kitchen instead of the cold prison walls, "-just thinking about what I'm missing, you know?"

Michonne turned back to the two, "Yeah, I know."

"Can you imagine your own backyard?" you retorted, in disbelief with a laugh aired in your tone.

"My own house," she hummed, eyes flicking to the ceiling instead, "-I think I'd have a dog."

"Sometimes," you took the edge of your shirt in between your fingers -the material soft to the touch, "-I think about what curtains I would have. Isn't that stupid?"

"No," she answered -simply.

Michonne was direct like that, her answers straightforward and steady; sometimes, you doubted she'd ever really been insecure about an idea. She seemed so confident, you never thought to go against her. You didn't know her past, but it was hard to imagine anything breaking through that resolve.

You pursed your lips, turning back to the two -he was smiling now, the crinkle by his eyes so prominent as he looked down at Judith. It was so unabashedly bright; despite his whole world crumbling, he'd still lit up your corner of the world. And maybe you were a little biased, but you thought it'd be a tragedy if it went dark again.

"You should tell him," Michonne spoke, unflinchingly as if she'd read your mind.

You whispered, a breath across the room -you'd never named it, "Tell him what?"

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a gentle pressure that guided your eyes to meet hers. Her eyes leveled with yours, the look was easy to read despite the schooled expression -she knew, and so did you. You often wondered how many could see it in you, you knew it was obvious -the gazes searching to find his first, the stares lasting just a touch too long, smiling when he did.

"I think you know."

And you did.

You just weren't sure of much, you weren't sure if this world could be... loved. Could anyone in this world love or be loved? Despite what you felt, deep in your heart, you still weren't sure. Was it even possible for it to work? With everything else so harsh and direct, how could you even begin to-

"Plus," Michonne interrupted, a smile biting at her lips, "-you could do worse."

You laughed, leaning your head back to the sky -the thoughts fleeing from your mind like leaves in the wind, "I could."

When you leveled your head, your eyes connected with something new -Rick was looking at you. Bright blue followed the movement of your face, your lips quirked into a smile and you raised a hand to wave. Trying to avoid the warmth that swirled up in your stomach and the very real feeling of 'I told you so' radiating from Michonne just beside you, you pushed forward.

And there it was, the bright smile you'd seen just moments before except this time, it was directed to you. In a spare second, he pulled Judith's little arm up and waved back -gentle movements, but the notion there stayed the same.

Laughter took the place of a response, and you couldn't quite get your brain to form anything else -it was so fuzzy with memories you hadn't made yet, but you wanted to. Eventually.

Your eyes flickered to the sky, it had to be midday at this point -just as it began to cool off in the day. With daylight flickering, you had someplace to be.

"Alright," you hummed pulling yourself into gear, "-I can only handle so much of Rick Grimes a day."

Michonne laughed, "Liar."

You snorted, walking out into the day -eyes searching for a particular person. It had started about a month ago when you and Daryl had formed a bet. He'd said something about your choice of a weapon, and you'd said something about his.

"Bet if we switched, I could kill more walkers than ya."

"You are so on."

So, with some new rules in place, Daryl had sworn on the blue sky that he'd teach you how to use a bow. Wasn't fair if you didn't know how, so it was a necessary step.

Your weapon wasn't as... complex. So, the opposite wasn't really necessary.

You eyes caught him in the field, where he stood across from a... what the hell is that?

There's was a tall branch, sticking up from the ground with burlap sacks and hay sticking out -instead of good seams and crisp corners, however, this was not quite a masterpiece.

You burst into laughter, eyes following the desperately tied rope and hay poking out of corners. It truly looked like a nightmare, but on the area where a "face" might be was detailed of an eyepatch and angry eyebrows.

"Really?" You yelled across the grass, as Daryl spun to you -shrugging as if he hadn't put any time into making... that.

Ranging closer, you extended your hand toward the character, you'd say for now, "I didn't know you were into arts and crafts!"

"Keep laughin'-" Daryl rolled his eyes, not quite responding to you as he loaded up his arrow -tone solid, but you could tell he was light.

Daryl was something you had to get used to, something you had to learn. He was a bit of an icy mystery to any outsiders, but you knew he cared an awful lot more than anyone claimed to.

"Maybe I will," you quipped, "-we ready?"

"Yea," he stood off the ground, brushing dirt off his pants, "-we're losing daylight, gotta start soon anyway."

He was surprisingly attentive, slowly doing each step at your pace -it was an air the man hadn't exposed to you yet. Kind and gentle. He was a great teacher, to your benefit.

Watching as he seemingly without a flinch, landed an arrow into the... target. Right on the eyepatch, and if you took out a ruler probably in the perfect middle. Why did you take this bet again?

Then the weapon was in your hands, the arrow already in, and just awaiting your next move. Trying to remember the steps, Daryl guided your hands to the right position and pulled back your shoulders -there was a proper posture, but you doubted he used it.

That was when a new voice presented itself, just as Daryl adjusted your grip on the bow, tilting the tip down a touch -assumingly something was wrong in your technique.

"What are y'all doing?"

You knew that drawl. He was always an echo in your brain, words bouncing around in your head -he'd stuck with you in so many different ways.

You spun around -eyes finding him with ease, "Hey, cowboy! I could ask you the same question."

Daryl hadn't said anything yet, his mouth in a stubbornly straight line and that was odd for him. Especially when talking to Rick. But then you looked at him, Judith wasn't in his arms anymore.

His flannel was rolled up his arms, and his eyes laid intently on the hand that Daryl had wrapped around your wrist to push down the bow. It was still connected there, passively, like he was waiting to take the weapon out of your hand. You hadn't minded, it was completely like a guiding hand really, nothing else.

Rick pursed his lips, something set in his jaw, "Right."

You furrowed your brow, quickly gesturing the bow to Daryl -which he with ease accepted. He knew something more than you, you could tell in the way that their eyes flicked to each other, heavy and filled with something you couldn't really read. The air stilled and brushed across your skin like a harsh gust of wind.

"Why? Is everything alright?" you asked, concern turning over in your tone. You'd always assumed the worse -especially as one of the sole medical professionals, you knew you shouldn't have gone so far out-

"What? Oh yes," he seemed to blink, facing you again -all the tension in his face seemed to melt and his hand went to rest on your shoulder, "-nothin' to worry about."

You exhaled, shaking the buzzing under your skin out as much as you could, "Okay, good."

He smiled at you, but it wasn't all there. Something was wrong, you knew it, but it apparently wasn't an emergency? Did he need to talk to you? Was he okay?

"I was just teachin' 'em how to use the bow," Daryl echoed, tone solid and seeming to address something you hadn't noticed -talking directly to Rick, "-nothin' else."

You quirked your brow, genuinely confused by the shift in the energy, "What else would we be doing?"

Rick's eyes flickered to you, where you now stood -kind of puzzled and a bit tense in the newfound energy you found yourself in. He sighed, running his other hand through his hair -you knew that was a sign.

"'Course," he hummed, his voice a little less restrained, but still not quite... Rick, "-it's for that bet you two have, right? Sorry for interrupting, just..."

He looked at Daryl -eyes unbreaking, and intense.

"Curious," he finished, eyes connecting to yours for a few seconds longer than you expected -then flicked back to the ground like he'd been embarrassed...? His hand carefully, hesitantly, drifted off your shoulder.

Before you could even open your mouth, the man cleared his throat and turned back around the way he came.

"Daryl-" you began, turning back to the other man. You weren't sure what that was, but you weren't going to just leave it like that.

"Go," he hummed, unbothered, as he carefully plucked a few arrows off the ground, "-I'm not as stupid as you think."

You rolled your eyes, relaying to comment on that later in the back of your head and trailing after Rick. He was actually pretty quick, despite the unfavorable footwear, but you somehow managed to catch up.

"Rick," you spoke, tone direct and stressed out into the meadow air.

He stopped in his place, a bit stunned it seemed, as he stood still. There was definitely something wrong, you could feel it. In a breath, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling it to you behind him. He still hadn't faced you -facing straight ahead with air to him you'd only seen once or twice in your time knowing him.

"Are you alright?"

Rick didn't respond immediately, stance shock still. You watched as his shoulders huffed out breaths, the smallest rise and fall being the only thing you could focus on. His wrist was warm in your hand, and you felt your fingers rubbing gentle circles into the skin there -in an effort to soothe something you didn't know the root cause of.

His eyes flicked back to you, much softer and something more familiar to you -shining in a haze you couldn't identify, but had experienced yourself. (Merely hours before actually.) They flicked to your hand and then your face, almost in realization that you had made that point of contact.

"Shit, sorry," you pulled your hand back, tone a bit rambly, "-I didn't know if you were comfortable with that, I should've ask-"

"No, no," he echoed, pulling your hand back just to match it with his -intertwining your fingers, "-it's fine, better than fine. I am."

"Oh," you swallowed, watching now as he faced you -his own thumb cradling against the back of your hand that sent your brain into a bit of a fog, "-okay."

Rick grinned the kind that crinkled at his eyes then.

"I-" you began, suddenly remembering what you'd run after him for -blinking the fuzz out of your brain, "-you still didn't answer my question, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah-" he enunciated, eyes hanging on your hands for a second, "-I'm good, promise."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Great, even," he responded, thumb dancing against your skin and your brain almost flatlined again.

"Then," you pursed your lips, "-what was that back there?"

"Nothing," he answered back, a little too quickly for your taste, "-just curious."

"Rick-" you started, before locking onto the way he held your hand. It was the same one that Daryl had been holding just a second earlier, and your mind lit up with the flicking of his eyes to the touch, the set of his jaw, some internal dialogue between the two... oh my god.

He seemed to notice the difference in you, his own eyebrows raising in response to your change in demeanor.

"Cowboy," you hummed, daring only to look at your intertwined hands, "-were you jealous?"

Rick stilled in his place, the thumb frozen in its cycle and the breath caught in his throat. You could practically see the thumping of his heart in his chest, watching as the pink flooded up his neck -he totally was.

"Rick," you added, a little in disbelief.

He hummed, seeming to be unable to speak and his eyes lazily focused on your intertwined fingers. You found it kinda cute, actually.

"Rick," you continued, "-look at me."

He sighed, deep in his chest, the curls at the nape of his neck catching the sunlight just right. He looked pretty like this, like a painting. And finally tilted his face to meet yours -fingers squeezing your hand and thumb rubbing against your skin, his eyes were a bit distant then.

You reached your other hand up to the side of his face, trailing your fingertips along his cheekbone -the cut that you'd once been drawn to now under your fingertips, "There you are."

His breath hitched, as you brushed a few stray curls back behind his ears and let your hand rest against his skin for a few seconds longer. You could feel the heat bubble up there, as you focused your attention there -trailing along the now scab and up along the crinkling near his eyes. You smoothed them out with a few timid presses of your skin to his; it seemed so natural, so familiar.

Rick seemed in a trance almost, eyes dipping down to yours without much thought, like a sort of bliss. You wondered how long it had been since he had his face cradled like this, how long he'd missed the gentle brush of fingertips. Even just for a brush of contact, he seemed unable to speak, the air heavier in between the space than you'd known it to be before.

"Trust me when I say," you hummed, eyes straight into his -unflinchingly, "-you have nothing to worry about."

You noted somewhere deep in your head to do little things more, as you leaned back -pulling back your hand to your side but keeping the other one steady in his. Rick still stayed silent, eyes wistfully watching you fall back into your own space; he'd looked a bit conflicted. So calm and breathing peacefully, all the while his heart seemed to beat 100 miles an hour out of his chest.

Definitely cute, you decided.

"With that out of the way," you cleared your throat like you hadn't just crossed millions of boundaries that you'd established with him, "-I think you have some plans to make. You ruined mine, after all. It's only fair."

He laughed, eyes hooked on your hand in his and it was different then, you could feel it in the buzz of the air, "It's only fair."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

[crucifiedfaerie]

Sparring Sessions ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: When Snoke makes you his training partner against his wishes, Kylo vows to make your little sessions as nightmarish as possible. But it gets increasingly more difficult for him as his feelings for you grow.

➴ Word Count: 3.2k

➴ Warnings: no actual smut but lots of sexual tension and slightly implied smut so 18+ MDNI, slowburn ??, snoke in his matchmaker era ???, reader's AND kylo's POV, kylo ren is a mean emotionally stunted dickhead as always, mean!kylo to soft!kylo, so much tension and mutual pining, reader has some fire in her and doesn't take his bs, crylo ren, A LOT of angst, a little bit of fluff, swearing, typos and saint being illiterate probably.

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys i kinda hate how this turned out. but idk im chronically too hard on myself at all times so maybe im just in my head about it. nonetheless, i really hope you guys enjoy. theres no smut in this one, and it is a oneshot currently, but if you guys do actually like it and request a part two, i will definitely consider making a part two with smut. also adam driver is sooo sexy in that gif like... LOOK AT HIM !!

Kylo Ren was always a loner at heart, sparing little attention towards his peers, let alone attempting to seek out positive relationships with them. He simply preferred to be left alone, his hot-headedness couldn't handle a person even remotely getting in his way.

The day Snoke told him he would be getting a training partner, he retreated to his quarters and threw what can only be described as a temper tantrum. His lightsaber shrieked as he swung at the durasteel walls, shouting profanities with each hit.

The following morning when you enthusiastically offered your hand to shake, Kylo simply stared at you. His dark eyes narrowed as they flitted from your outstretched hand to your face in a deadly glare. "We are not, and will not be friends... let's make that very clear." He stated coldly.

However, with each passing day, his hatred for you turned into something different. Despite Kylo's annoyance, he couldn't deny how beautiful you looked and he was constantly catching himself lowering his gaze to your lips.

As the months passed, your relationship built on hate evolved into a strange competition of who could annoy each other the most. Your constant bickering had even started to piss off the Stormtroopers.

The two of you would spend the first ten minutes of your sessions arguing over who got the shittier, cracked training saber. Kylo's favorite excuse being "I won more matches yesterday so I should get the better one." He'd use that even if it weren't true, as if he were hoping you'd somehow forgotten you'd beaten him multiple times the day before.

Some mornings you would breeze past him as he walked down the hall to the training bay. You'd sprint through the doors and hear his footsteps quicken behind you. Your level of speed was something Kylo could never match, which always made him mad. By the time he would make it through the doors, you would already be holding the better training saber, twirling it around in your hand. "Too slow, Ren." You would sneer at him.

Other times, Kylo would arrive to the training bay early, knowing by now that being punctual wasn't necessarily your thing. When you would try to take it from him, he would raise the saber as far as he could in the air, smirking as he took pleasure in watching your futile attempts to jump up and reach it. If Kylo's speed was inferior to yours, your height was most certainly inferior to Kylo's.

He would tell himself he hated how physically close you were to him in those moments, but deep down he knew that wasn't true. Each brush of fabric or slight bump against his side made his heart race... made him feel... something. And whatever it was, he resented you for making him feel that way.

This morning you had woken up feeling different. Your feelings for Kylo had been slowly evolving as well, and you seemed to be unable to get his dark eyes and stupid smirk out of your head. Truth be told, you were beginning to grow tired of how he treated you like some nuisance he only found pleasure in tormenting. As you walked down the quiet halls of Starkiller, you decided you were in no mood for his games today.

"Ten minutes late." Kylo shook his head, "That has got to be a new personal record." He jeered.

You scoff at him and roll your eyes, ignoring his jab and walking past him to pick up the damaged training saber he left for you. With your feet planted firmly on the floor, you take a fighting stance, waiting for him to make the first move.

Kylo lunged at you and instinctively you ducked, catching his saber with your own before pushing it away from your body.

You blocked each other's attacks in silence, the only sounds that filled the room were yours and Kylo's breathing and the clicks of dull metal blades hitting each other.

Kylo watched you intently with a dark gaze, gritting his teeth. Your fiery attitude always amused him. It was something he secretly really liked about you, so your silence today was unnerving. The longer you ignored him, the more he wanted to catch your attention.

"Hey." He said in a low tone as he dodged another one of your attacks.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing. "What?"

Kylo took in your annoyed expression as a smirk tugged at his lips. He stepped closer, attempting to take a swipe at your abdomen with his blade before answering.

"You're looking lovely today." He smirked, attempting to catch you off guard.

You jumped back from his attack, his blade mere inches from making contact with your skin. "Very funny, Ren." You rolled your eyes, emphasizing his name in a sneer.

Kylo slightly shrugged, still smirking. "Why's it funny? Am I not allowed to compliment you?" He challenged, his tone still teasing.

"Not when it's laced with sarcasm." You mock his tone, taking another hard swing at him.

Kylo's lips curled into a smug grin as he catches your blade with his, pausing his attacks to look down at you, blades still touching. "But what if it isn't sarcasm?" He mused. In reality, he did genuinely think you looked lovely, but in the moment he was being sarcastic to get a reaction from you.

You laughed, ignoring his question. "You know for someone who hates my guts, you sure do try to make quite a bit of conversation with me." You took the opportunity to use your saber to knock his from his hands, sending it to the floor with a clatter. "I'd even say you have a crush on me or something." You jabbed, smirking.

Kylo's jaw clenched at your words, his fists tightening as he watched his saber fall to the ground. He tried to hide that your words struck a nerve with him, and that you were completely right. He did hate you... once upon a time, but things were different now and he absolutely despised how easily you could call him on his bullshit.

"Fucking- shut up." He snapped.

You let out a small huff of a laugh. He was never good at hiding his anger.

"With pleasure." You dropped your saber to the floor and gave a sarcastic curtsy before walking past him, bumping shoulders with him on purpose as you made your way to the door.

Kylo's eye twitched. "You-" He was filled with an insurmountable amount of rage at your audacity. You had really gotten under his skin this time. "Where do you think you're going? Training doesn't end for another two hours." He demanded, his tone shifting dramatically towards cold authority.

You groaned in annoyance. "To my quarters to be alone... Away from you! I'm done for the day."

Kylo scoffed at you, his ego bruised. "Of course you're going to run off. You're too much of a baby to train with me." He stepped in front of you, blocking your straight path to the door as he crossed his arms.

"Asshole." You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath before swiftly darting around him and out the door, leaving him alone in the training room.

His pride was hurt, and he wasn't going to let this go. He stood in the training bay doorway and shouted at you down the hall. "You know what? Don't bother coming back tomorrow! I'll tell Snoke having you as a training partner was a mistake, that you'll never be good enough to train with me."

"Fine!" You shouted back at him, waving your hand in the air behind you and not even turning to look in his direction. "I'm done being treated like scum by you anyways!" You turn the corner, leaving him standing at the end of the empty hall.

Panic and regret instantly washed over him as he watched you disappear around the corner. Kylo didn't actually want you gone, he only said it to get under your skin. He wasn't expecting you to so nonchalantly agree.

Why did I do that?

Kylo tried so hard to resist the thoughts and feelings he had for you that plagued his mind, how just the sight of you made him feel... funny. He always thought that maybe if he was mean enough to you, they would go away. But now with you gone completely, the feelings only rose to the surface.

"Fuck." He muttered to himself as he leaned on the doorframe, face in his hands.

When he looked up his expression hardened, noticing a Stormtrooper in the training bay staring at him. "What are you looking at!?" He yelled.

That night you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the events in your head, which only made you angrier.

You massaged your temples in annoyance. "Stupid fucking man-child with his stupid fucking beautiful face and h-"

Your mumbling was interrupted by a light tapping at your door. It was pretty late, and most of the crew was asleep, so you were confused as to who would be knocking on your door at this hour. You were in no mood to talk to anyone though, so you just laid there, hoping whoever it was would go away.

After a few moments of silence, you heard Kylo's voice on the other side of the door.

"It's uh... It's me. I know you can hear me." The sound of his voice caught you off guard, his tone was one you'd never heard from him before. He sounded almost... sheepish.

"I'm sleeping." You shout back to him.

You thought you heard him let out a small laugh. "No you aren't. I just wanted to talk to you. Just- Can I come in? Please?" There was a slight whine to his voice.

You got up and swung the door open, glaring at him. "What?" You gestured for him to enter, your annoyance with him clear from your expression and hand movements.

Kylo stepped into your room, before you practically slammed it shut. He looked as if he were trying to look everywhere but directly at you. "I just... wanted you to know I'm..." He couldn't even finish his sentence. "I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."

You laughed, leaning against your door. "Are you in my room... apologizing to me right now? I'm sorry I just wanna make sure I'm not in some weird dream." You looked at him with a mixture of amusement and perplexity.

Kylo scoffed at you, trying to hide the slight strain in his voice. "I'm not apologizing. I'm just being... courteous... for once."

"..... Courteous?" You laughed, unable to hide how much enjoyment you were getting from this.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shifting slightly. "Look, just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you. I'm not saying I'm sorry. I do still despise you, after all."

"Oh, sure." You said sarcastically, nodding your head. "Because when I despise a person, I definitely feel the need to come to their room at midnight to explain myself."

Kylo's eye twitched as you called him out. "I do despise you! I just realized I may have gone too far, so don't be so full of yourself. Gods- I wouldn't have come here if I knew you'd be such a nightmare!"

You sighed, the amusement fading back into hurt and contempt. "If you only came here to insult me and make the situation worse, you can leave and never see me again. Which I'm sure you would love."

He took a step closer to you, pausing before speaking as a twinge of guilt crossed his expression. "Please stay." He tried to sound stern, but he knew he was in no position to give you any commands. "Look... just... come back to training tomorrow." He could feel the power slipping through his fingers.

You've gone soft, Ren. Lost your edge.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said coldly, opening the door and gesturing for him to leave.

Kylo's brow furrowed, his ego bruised once again by your attitude towards him, but relieved that you agreed to stay. "Fine." He replied, a glint of anger returning to his eyes.

He went to storm out of your quarters, before stopping in his tracks just outside your door. "I... goodnight." He sounded pained.

What is wrong with me?

You laughed at him again, which only made him seethe. When he turned around to say something though, he realized you had already shut the door, leaving him in the dark emptiness of the hallway.

Kylo clenched his fists, his eyes burning with anger and want. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, trying to ignore the nagging thought of just... being honest with you about his feelings. Apologizing and asking you to come with him back to his chambers.

Don't be fucking stupid, Ren. She wouldn't want that. Just go now and save yourself the embarrassment.

He walked back towards his quarters, his head hung low, thoughts racing. When he entered his room, he slowly made his way to his bed before collapsing on the soft, dark sheets.

He attempted to rationalize the situation in his head, tried to brush off the entire interaction as nothing.

It's fine. This is just how we are. Tomorrow, we'll go back to normal.

Except none of it felt normal anymore.

Kylo was a mess. The entire ordeal had knocked him completely off balance, making him question himself for the first time. He took a deep breath, the anger in his heart fading to soul crushing emptiness.

Gods- Why am I like this? Every time I want to be kind, I end up going cold and pushing her even further away... I couldn't even say I was sorry and now she fucking hates me.

I dont even know why I want to be so nice to her, she constantly has an attitude and she acts like she's better than me.

His heart sank as he realized.

She is better than me.

He fought back tears, ashamed by his own weakness. Kylo laid completely still, taking a few more deep breaths before finally surrendering.

He shuddered as tears began to fall, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had someone there who he didn't have to hide his pain from.

You sat on the edge of your bed, knee bouncing and staring at the floor. Your mind was running a million light years a minute as you argued with yourself, your heartache and your anger having a moral battle.

I shouldn't have been so harsh, he seemed genuinely remorseful there for a moment... until I made fun of him.

Oh please. Ren is never remorseful about anything. He just enjoys tormenting me at training and was worried about losing that.

But there was an air about Kylo tonight... something different. Something softer that only a trained eye could have seen. And you saw it, you know you did. It was something you had never seen from him before.

I need to talk to him.

You quickly stood up and rushed out the door of your quarters. You didn't make it twenty feet down the hallway before you ran into something- someone.

You yelped at the sudden collision. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the quiet hallway you looked up and your eyes connected with Kylo's. Usually he had this perpetual expression of anger on his face, but now he looked... sad?

It's him.

It's her.

Kylo froze, his body tensing slightly once he realized you were mere inches from him. He had a second realization, and a small wave of excitement and nervousness washed over him.

Did she come to see me too?

"W-what are you doing here?" You whispered, not wanting to admit you were headed to see him.

"What are you doing here?" Kylo asked back, tilting his head. The truth was, he had just finished crying and he was fighting the urge to tell you how badly he needed you. How every time you're near him he finds himself gazing at your lips. How he absolutely adores your fiery attitude that always comes out the most during your sparring sessions, despite how much he pretended to hate it. It was a losing battle, he could only hide how he felt for so long.

"I asked first..." You attempt to retort, but trailing off as you notice his tear stained cheeks in the dim lighting of the hallway. Your expression softens. "Ren, have you been crying?"

Before you could even begin to process the foreign idea of someone as cold as Kylo crying, your face was in his hands and his lips were crashing into yours.

You froze initially, before melting into him. His kiss was full of need, months of tension snapping as your lips moved against his. He moved his hands down to wrap his arms around you. His grip on you was gentle but he held you tightly, as if he feared you would disappear at any moment.

Kylo pulled away just for a moment to breathe, pressing his forehead against yours. His heart raced with emotion, and his body felt entirely out of his control.

"I don't care if you hate me, I just couldn't survive much longer without telling you how much I need you." His voice was soft but there was a tinge of desperation to it.

Your fingers snaked their way through his dark locks. "I never hated you, I just thought you hated me." You smiled slightly, out of breath.

The energy from your touch and your words surged through Kylo's body, any remnants of the fear and contempt he felt just hours ago had now disappeared completely.

"I only ever hated myself for feeling something I didn't understand. But I understand now." He whispered before kissing you again, this time more urgently.

You were everything Kylo ever wanted. Your touch, your voice, your presence. Everything about you enchanted him and in that moment he felt like he had known you for far longer than he actually had. He couldn't stop kissing you, and he never wanted to stop.

Instinctively, you moaned against his mouth. The sound of the sweet noises he drew from you made his whole body feel like it was on fire. He pushed you against the durasteel wall, his lips sliding down your neck and then back up to your mouth. He smirked against your skin at your soft gasps of pleasure.

Kylo pulled away again for a moment, his dilated eyes locked on yours as he breathed heavily. He quickly took your hand into his own, gripping it tightly before taking a few steps back, pulling you away from the wall and leading you down the hallway to his quarters.

The sounds of your hushed laughter and shushing of each other filled the quiet of the hallway as you both practically ran hand in hand. If someone else had been in the halls, you would have looked like two school children running off to do something you shouldn't.

You knew you would both be late to training tomorrow morning, and so did he... but neither of you really cared.

#kylo ren #ben solo #star wars #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #star wars x reader #kylo ren fanfic #ben solo fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequel trilogy #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #crucifiedfaerie #saint writes !

[requiem-fics]

How the JJK men react when you stay the night for the first time

Gojo Satoru

"It's kinda late. You wanna stay over or something?"

Acts as though he's doing you a massive favour by letting you stay the night instead of needing to go back to your place, when really, he'd hoped you'd want to stay the entire time.

Just lets you take a shirt from his closet to sleep in. It takes you a while to find something you don't think he'd mind you sleeping in, but it's all designer. Even labels you'd never heard of before. His shirts are all so soft though, and smell really nice. Masculine and luxurious.

"Don't you look cute wearing my clothes."

He downplays it, but he loves it.

Gojo sleeps in either boxers or sweatpants, completely shirtless.

"I get kinda hot at night" He shrugs it off.

Still sleeps in an eye mask though, claiming he's a light sleeper.

That's an absolute lie though. He sleeps so deeply, a little restless, but impossible to wake.

Loves spooning. Big or little, it doesn't matter. Clings to you, and only pulls you closer the deeper into sleep he gets.

Seriously, you'd better hope you don't need to get up in the middle of the night to use the washroom or something, because getting out of Gojo's grasp would prove impossible.

Nanami Kento

The type to always have a spare, unopened toothbrush and extra hygeine products. Not because he expects a lot of overnight guests, but he's collected a couple spares just in case. He'd hate to be a bad host.

"Are you positive? I don't mind sleeping on the sofa if you'd be more comfortable that way."

A considerate king, always wanting to make sure you're at ease in an unfamiliar environment.

He'll offer one of his softer, silk button-ups for you to sleep in. Something nice and oversized hoping you won't feel too underdressed.

He loves to see it though. The way the sleeves fall past your fingertips. Nanami thinks it's absolutely adorable and he realizes it's definitely a sight he could get used to seeing.

"Do you need water? A phone charger?"

If he hears your stomach rumble, he won't hesitate to cook you something spectacular, acting as if it's nothing. He's a great cook though, and loves this subtle manner of showing off his skills.

Sleeps very lightly, very attentive to your every movement. He wonders if you're able to sleep well in his bed, but all worries subside as you grab for his chest in your sleep.

Again, he finds it so cute and eventually gives in to sleep with your head nestled in his chest. Letting your soft breathing lull him to sleep.

Geto Suguru

"Up to you, sweetheart."

He acts nonchalant about it, as if he couldn't care less, but really he wants you. He just wants you to want him first.

The SOFTEST bedsheets. Plush pillows, with dark, rich silks and down duvets.

Geto is naturally a bit of a night owl, so if you plan on staying over, it's best to ensure you don't need to be up early the next morning.

He'll play some music, drawing images on your upper thigh, trying to make you guess what he was drawing.

"Let's take a walk? I wanna get something to eat."

It doesn't matter if it's past midnight, Geto knows all the best late-night haunts in the city.

He's quite tall and intimidating. Walking around with him late at night is the equivalent to 'scary dog privilege' no one would dare to try and make you feel unsafe as long as Geto is next to you. Even if it's 3am.

Surprisingly, he has a skincare routine, and offers you some moisturizer and serums before bed. Takes a lot of satisfaction in subtly caring for you and ensuring you feel like you're being pampered.

"Tell me something about you that no one else knows."

The intimacy of sharing a bed isn't enough, he always wants to know you better than he did before.

"Take it off," He urges before you get under his duvet with him. "And let me watch."

Sleeps completely entangled in you. Limbs intertwined. Lost, but comfortable.

Fushiguro Toji

"C'mere. You're not leaving just yet." Sleepily, Toji waves you over, inviting you into his bedroom. Rolling onto the bed as he pats the spot next to him.

It's been a while since he's wanted someone to spend the night with him, but he couldn't pass you up and let you walk home alone, and he was too tired to let you leave.

Usually he sleeps better alone, other people make him uneasy. It takes the right kind of person to get himto tear down his walls and lay next to him as he's at his most vulnerable.

There's a bit of a softness to his jagged edges after midnight.

Deep talks. He has no issue telling you about his life if you ask, and he'll give you his undivided attention once you feel like opening up to him.

Definitely the type to lounge around in grey sweatpants and nothing else. The man may have trouble expressing his feelings, but he has no issues understanding exactly how unbelievable his body is.

"You can feel them."

He laughs as he catches you staring, only to take your hand and guide it over his abs. Absolutely enamoured by how flustered you're getting.

Sleeps with you completely consumed in his massive arms. It's rare he lets guests over, but the rare time he does it's because they're someone worth holding on to.

Choso

"It's not safe this late, I'd never forgive myself if something happened."

Second guesses if this is the right thing to do, partially because he's secretly so into you, he's afraid of slipping up.

He's also afraid of his brothers getting jealous given how pretty he knows they'll find you.

"I could call you a cab? Or you could take the bed?"

He blushes uncontrollably when you suggest sharing his bed.

"Want to play a game?" Cards, board games, etc. Choso is a pro at lightening the mood and maintaining a comfortable distance between the two of you for as long as he can.

If you're not right by his side, you've strayed too far.

Snacks? Water? More blankets? Choso is very caring and responsible. He wants to ensure you're taken care of.

In a lull, rolls his head onto your chest, wrapping his arms around you as he feels the intimacy of your heart beat.

It's only when you're next to him in bed does he feel confident enough to take the initiative to pull you into him more closely, absolutely elated that you're reciprocating his physical demands for intimacy.

When he's on the cusp of sleep, he'll sneak in a gentle goodnight kiss if the opportunity presents itself.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #choso #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #jjk headcanons

[iovesia]

✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.

dark!kevin lomax⠀x⠀wife!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've finally had enough of kevin's lies and secrets, and you ask for a divorce. unfortunately, some secrets come back to bite as kevin threatens to leak compromising footage of you.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀extremely dubious consent. heavy angst. hate sex. p in v. forced breeding. blackmail. revenge porn. infidelity. forced established relationship.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ this is a dark fic, i can't stress this enough so please read the warnings. i know a lot of y'all requested the blackmail/sextape trope with kevin, so i kinda combined all the asks into this fic— hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

THE MUFFLED MELODY OF the record player echoed through your dark, and empty apartment. You rested the wine glass against the side of your head, letting out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes. The lifeless walls, that were painted in all the wrong colors, had begun to repulse you over the last few weeks. You spent most of your days trapped alone in this apartment, trying to keep yourself busy with any menial tasks.

Whether it be repainting the walls several times (only to receive no words of acknowledgement from your husband), or filling up the place with random plants— as a poor attempt to bring any form of life back into the soulless place you now called home.

At first, you couldn't bear to tell Kevin how much you despised New York. You missed the warm Florida sun, you missed the cool breeze on your face and the quiet roads when you'd drive to work in the early mornings— Hell, you even missed the tiny condo you and Kevin used to live in. It was small, there was hardly any hot water, and the neighbours were noisy as all hell, but it was home. And Kevin was actually around enough for you to be able to call him a husband.

"Jesus Christ," you mumbled to yourself, glancing upwards. The moonlight shone through the curtains, illuminating the clock hanging above the ashy fireplace. 3:07 am. You take a final swig of your wine, chugging down the last few drops, before slamming the glass hard enough on the coffee table that you almost smashed it.

The sound of keys jingling and the door creaking startled you from your thoughts. A murmured "damn" whispered from a masculine voice, as he tried to be as quiet as possible. You kept your eyes firmly focused in front of you, and almost as if on cue, your husband stumbled into the living room.

"Why are the damn lights off— Shit!" He jumped when he flicked the light switch on, revealing you sitting across from him, cross-legged on the leather couch. "Baby, you scared me, I thought you'd be ‘sleep by now," he lets out a small laugh, the southern twang leaking into his voice.

"Did you have fun?" Pain bubbles up in your throat, scalding, and you swallow. You knew where he was. It was the same excuse every night ("Sorry, baby, I have to stay late tonight at the office, this case is a real-pain in the ass"), and part of yourself wished you could just delude yourself into believing his web-of-lies. Yet, deep down in the crevice of your broken heart, you knew he was with her.

The red-headed Italian beauty, Christabella Andreoli. You'd been formally introduced once, at one of Kevin's bosses extravagant parties that he'd dragged you along to. You hardly missed the way she eyed your husband hungrily.

Her slender hand wrapped around his upper arm, her long maroon nails digging into his suit. With a cheshire grin hanging on her lips, she began to pull him away from you. "Hope you don't mind if I just steal him for a moment, just some shop-talk," she winks and you watch them disappear among the numerous figures of suit-cladded businessmen and lawyers.

That was your first red flag. Kevin promised you —crossing his heart— that she was just a colleague, who was a natural flirt.

"I don't know if I'd count shifting through endless piles of New York's city health codes fun," he smirks, taking slow strides closer to you. The couch dips as Kevin takes a seat next to you. He presses numerous little kisses along your shoulder, down to your neck. “I missed you, ba—”

“Just stop it!” You snap, rising from the couch as you slapped away your husband's hand. “Christ, Kevin! How stupid do you think I am?” 

You watch as Kevin’s face contorts to confusion, his brows furrowing as he licks his bottom lip. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He stands from the couch, still completely oblivious to the painstaking heartbreak written on your face. Kevin’s hand reaches for you, and again you slap it away, completely repulsed by the man who you used to crave.

“I want a divorce.”

THAT WAS TWO DAYS AGO.

After wailing, and shouting till the early hours of the morning, you locked yourself into your shared bedroom. Kevin begged and pleaded with you to open the door.

“Baby.. baby, please talk to me,” you ignore his muffled pleas. Sitting on the floor with your back to the door, you sob hysterically in your hands—  all the more crushing bits of Kevin’s heart. 

“Open the door, honey..”

At some point during the sunrise, the joyous early morning leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, Kevin had left the apartment. You wandered through the empty apartment, noticing the dishevelled couch where he frequently resided after a fight.

Since the fight, you’ve been seeing Kevin more in the last two days than the entire year you have been living in New York. When you once prayed for an ounce of his attention, you now avoided him like the plague.

Every attempt to touch, hug, kiss you was met with running in the other direction. You couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes— those dark, brown puppy dog eyes, knowing that he did all those things with another woman.

“Baby, nothing happened! I promise you!”

“Promises mean shit if you never keep them!”

THREE DAYS LATER, you had pondered the idea of looking into divorce lawyers. You prayed someone in New York would be willing to go against Kevin Lomax. His infamous reputation of having never lost a case, unsettled even the elites in the business, so your search was nearing fruitless.

But, Kevin is your husband (soon to be ex), surely he would grant you this last gift of mercy by just signing the papers— without the courtroom hassle.

You waited impatiently in the elevator, watching the numbers light up with each passing floor. Your heel clicked anxiously against the floor, as you held the pile of divorce papers to your chest. 

It was going to be over. Five years. Five years completely down the fucking drain. All because your husband couldn’t keep it in his goddamn pants. Or so you thought.

The silver doors finally opened, revealing the equivalent of the devil incarnate.

Christabella Andreoli.

“Mrs. Lomax, what a ple—”

“Don’t. Just.. don’t,” you interrupt, shutting your eyes as painful images of your husband and her begin forming in your mind. Christabella awkwardly clears her throat as she moves to the side, allowing you to pass her. “Do you know where Kevin is?” you ask, venom laced in your voice.

“He’s on the top floor, I’m going there now.”

“Great,” you quip with faux enthusiasm. “Do me one last favor —aside from fucking my husband— and hand him this.” You push the papers into the redhead's arms, her eyes staring at you with a similar confusion as Kevin did.

“Mrs. Lomax, I have no clue what yo—"

YOU DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE KEVIN sitting on the couch as you arose from your slumber. Kevin’s oversized law school hoodie and undies were the only thing covering your otherwise naked figure— an unfortunate habit you haven’t managed to break yet. Embarrassment bloomed in your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice (he did). You rubbed your tired eyes, shifting away from the lawyer. The pile of divorce papers lay sprawled across the coffee table, with the thick line at the end left unsigned.

“I’m not signing these,” Kevin sighs, running a hand through his black, slicked hair. 

“Kevin, we’ve been over this. I want a di–” you were rudely interrupted by Kevin reaching for the remote and switching it on. The TV static appears for half a second before cutting to what looks like CCTV footage. Labelled in the bottom right corner, this was footage of Kevin’s office floor. 

Squinting your eyes, the colour drains from your face as he fast forwards. Slowly fast forwarding to you entering his office, after hours, and the CCTV caught everything through his glass office doors. Every last second from you coming inside, kneeling down, and wrapping your lips around his cock.

Conveniently enough, the camera frame ends just above your head, preserving Kevin’s anonymity.

“What the hell? Where did you get this?! Why do you have this?!” The questions blurted out all at once, fury bubbling in your chest. Kevin was always one to fight dirty, but you never thought you’d bear victim to it.

“Security team is very amoral if you haven’t noticed.”

“So they actually gave you this footage?!” 

He smirks, pausing the TV on a particularly graphic frame. “Money talks. And I know those underpaid security people have no problem giving footage to whoever talks the most.”

“You know what? Keep this sick shit if you want, I’m done. Sign the papers, don’t sign them, I don’t care! I’m getting a goddam lawyer,” you whip around, hurriedly rushing towards your shared bedroom.

Kevin’s footsteps trailed behind you, loud and faster as he boomed “So that’s your big plan?”

You ignore his words, reaching for the first small suitcase you could find. Kevin enters the room, and slams the door behind him. You were too distracted looking for shirts to hear the quiet click of the lock.

“You think I’m gonna just let you leave?”

“Let me?” You barked, fists clenching and damn near smoke coming out of your ears. “You’re a cocky asshole if you think you’re letting me do anything. I’m leaving you, Kevin. We are over—”

A pain shocks your wrist as Kevin snatches it into a tight grip. You struggled against him, and with a huff, he pushed you onto the bed. Hastily, you try to crawl off the masterbed, only for Kevin to snatch your ankle and pull you back towards him. You feel his weight on top of you as he straddles you, both his hands pinning your hands down.

“Baby, I made a lot of mistakes..” the dark-haired man mumbles, his eyes piercing into you.

“K-Kevin, you’re hurting me—”

“But, you’re not leaving me. No, no, no, baby,” Kevin's lips met your neck, making your chest tighten as you kicked your legs to try and get him off you; but to no avail. “You think you’ll find a single goddamn lawyer that’s gonna help you when that tape gets out?”

You freeze.

“What did you say?” your voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear you.

“All the judge will see is visual evidence of you being a cheating whore— fucking another man in your doting husband’s office, no less,” Kevin smirks against your jaw as he continues his kisses. “Or at least that’s how I’ll make it look..”

“You sick bastard!”

“You’ll lose the rights to everything by a landslide, and you’ll be left with nothing,” Kevin sighs, faux-sympathy laced in his devilish voice. His head moves back and hovers directly over your face, his brown puppy eyes piercing into your teary, fury ones.

“Nobody’s gonna believe that,” you murmured, trying to sound sure, but deep in the pit of your stomach.. He was right. Kevin had all the money, power and connections to screw you over. 

“Baby, they’ll believe whatever I want them to believe,” he rests his forehead against yours, ignoring the tears that are brimming your waterline. You struggled once more, desperately wanting out of his grasp. 

“Baby, baby.. please,” Kevin’s hand trails down your torso, his cold wedding ring touching against you, making you twitch. Another devastating reminder that the man you love, the man you married, was holding you down and blackmailing you.

“You’re fucking evil—” A choked sob escapes your lips, simultaneously as his hand dips under your waistband. “Oh my Go—”

“Let me make it up to you..” his honey voice echoes in your ear. Your voice dies in your throat when Kevin’s fingers start to toy with your clit, and you hate the way your body reacts to his touch. Arching your back, you continue to squirm out of fear.. and desperation. Your body betrays you as you feel yourself getting wetter. “Let me make you feel good, baby, hm?”

“Fuck you,” you spit angrily, not before being interrupted by a measly gasp as his fingers continue working against your bundle of nerves.

“I love you so much, sugar,” Kevin pressed his soft lips to yours, only you kept yours in a thin line. Two fingers were plunged into your wet cunt, and you let out a small gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in and capturing your lips in a passionate embrace. “There’s no line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you.”

“I-I hate you,” you mewled weakly, biting on your lower lip to ignore the feeling in your core. Kevin merely chuckles, eyeing the way you bend to his will as he rubs your desperate bud faster.

Suddenly, the tearing sound of your undies made your heart drop. You purse your lips, stopping the involuntary moans from leaving your lips. The tip of Kevin’s cock slides up and down your cunt, before parting your pussy lips. 

“I-I hate you.. Oh fuck— K-Kevin..” you whimper, his cock stretching your pretty pussy deliciously. His slow thrusts were agonising, and made your head swirl, a warmth blooming from your lower region. 

“I’m gonna be around more, baby, I promise you,” he pants against your ear, his hot breath hitting your face. Stray tears fall down your cheeks and Kevin kisses them away. One of his hands letting go of your wrist, trailing down to the back of your thigh. He presses one knee up to your chest, allowing him to thrust his cock even deeper inside you— you swore you could feel him in your stomach. “I’m gonna make you so happy.”

Your toes curled with each thrust and your fluttering walls clenched at his words, only making you more ashamed by the minute. His laboured breaths mixed in with your own as he continued nipping your neck, leaving small love bites. 

“It’s gonna be you, and me.. and a baby.”

Your eyes widened at that, and immediately you tried to sit up, only for Kevin to push more of his weight down on you, keeping you firmly in your place. You were practically speechless, your bambi eyes frozen in shock. “Kevin, wait— don’t come inside—”

“Sh, sh,” he coos. “I’m gonna fill you up, mama. Don’t you want that?” You mewl at his sudden harsh thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. Blinded by your tears and the overwhelming pleasure washing over your body, you nod weakly.

A sick grin hung on Kevin’s lips as he poured into you, and you let out a sinful moan as you clenched hard around him, mixing your cum with his. Panting, you don’t resist when Kevin traps your lips with his.

“You’re the only woman I’ll ever want,” he whispers your name sensually, you can’t help the chills that arise on your skin.

“And, I’ll be damned to hell before I let you leave me.”

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom.

let me know if anyone wishes to be added !!

#dark.josie #nsfw.josie #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax imagine

[jinkoh]

secrets

sunwoo x gn!reader

summary: It seemed there were no limitations of who he was willing to become for you—with one grave exception: He could never just be Kim Sunwoo.

tags: (implied) mafia!sunwoo, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, soft ending, SFW; warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, relationship struggles

wordcount: ~1,9k

a/n: named this little drabble 'secrets' and then realized kate has a 1,9k mafia au for hyungwon of the same name and that was kinda fun to me~ anyway this is just a very quick little drabble that was inspired by a sentence in a book i was reading and also by the ongoing mafia au brainrot that has been haunting kate and me for weeks (months?) now~

Masterlist

You first met Sunwoo at a bar, dressed all in black, swirling his drink around in its glass as he watched you sit down a few seats away from him. You were dying to have a drink, but the bartender seemed to be in the back or elsewhere, so you just waited listlessly, unsure what to do with yourself. 

Until Sunwoo talked to you.

"What do you want to drink? Wine? Whiskey? Beer?"

You turned to him in confusion, certain he was a guest himself from his expensive looking suit and watch.

"Wine," you replied anyway.

He looked around, as if making sure not to get caught, before he walked around the counter to pour you a glass.

"Can you just do that?"

He looked at you with an almost disinterested shrug. "Looks like I can."

His boldness made you laugh. "What's your name?" 

"Whatever you want it to be." It was such a cliché line and you should have cringed, but instead you found yourself drawn to him. There was something intriguing about him.

"Oh, really? Anything is fine?" 

"Sure, I'll be anyone for you. The bartender for example. Or—," he leaned over the counter, close enough to speak in a whisper, "maybe you want me to be someone else tonight?"

After getting involved with him you quickly realized he hadn't lied; he became whomever you wanted him to be. It seemed there were no limitations of who he was willing to become for you—a bartender, an affair, a guy who took you out for dinner, a friend who accompanied you to your nephews soccer game, a lover—but there was one grave exception: He could never just be Kim Sunwoo. He could never be completely truthful, always holding on to a zillion secrets that you couldn’t even scratch the surface of. As much as he loved to hear about you, find out all your likes and dislikes, as little did he reveal about himself. For every tiny thing you knew about him, there was another bigger one you didn’t and it drove you insane. You knew he often met 'friends' late at night, but you didn’t know a single one of their names. You knew he drove a black Mercedes, but you didn’t know why the license plate kept changing every other week. You knew the scent of his laundry detergent, but you didn’t know where the blood stains on his shirt came from. 'Don't worry about it', he would say, but how could you not? 'Not knowing is more exciting than the boring truth', but if the truth was so boring why couldn't he tell you?

Perhaps he was right about the excitement of it all, but secrets can only last so long before they start feeling like lies. They were feeling like lies now, with Sunwoo sleeping next to you in your white sheets, eyes closed so peacefully despite the dark circles and the bloody scratch on his cheek. He'd sneaked into your bed just a while ago, too late to still be considered night, too early to count as morning. The sun hadn't risen yet, but it wasn't dark anymore, the room dyed in a cold blue. Maybe you should have been upset that he'd come to your place at this time, the sound of the door rousing you from your sleep. But somehow it made your chest feel full instead. He probably had a nice, expensive apartment somewhere (not that you'd ever been there) but he was coming home to you instead, seeking your company after whatever had kept him up until the blue hour. It must have been something bad. You were neither stupid nor naive enough not to see the signs. But you'd simply decided to turn a blind eye. At first because it seemed exciting to have an affair with a dangerous man. And then because you started to like him, and it was easier to justify being with him if you pretended he had an office job with odd hours rather than whatever it was he actually did for a living. 

But you slowly realized that wasn’t going to work anymore. You struggled to fall asleep when he wasn’t there, unsure if he was just at home or maybe out somewhere, doing something. Whenever he snuck into your bed in the middle of the night, you knew he'd been up to no good, and yet you felt relief wash over you, because at least it meant he was alive. You couldn't stop yourself from worrying, and you felt if you already worried anyway you should at least know what it was you were worrying about. He would have to tell you.

With careful hands you brushed his hair out of his forehead, revealing another small wound right above his eyebrow. He flinched when you accidentally grazed it with your thumb.

"Sorry," you whispered, even though you thought he was still sleeping. But his eyes fluttered open.

"No need to be," he whispered back and you wondered how his voice could possibly be so gentle and sweet, despite the dark secrets he seemed to be hiding.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one. It doesn’t matter." 

"It does matter. I can't keep watching like this without knowing what's going on." You pulled your hand away but he held onto your wrist, a loose grasp that you could have easily shaken off if you'd wanted to. But you didn’t. His touch felt warm.

"It's better this way," he insisted, and despite the seriousness of the conversation his voice stayed gentle and calm. "How long could you love someone you know everything about? There always needs to be a little secret, something to reveal, to find out."

"Where does that leave me then? You know pretty much everything about me. Are you tired of me yet? Disillusioned?"

He let out a breathy laugh. "Don't be silly. How could I ever get tired of you?"

"Then what if I feel the same way?"

"That's impossible."

You frowned. "It's not."

"You say that because you don't know better. But I can't risk losing you." He squeezed your hand and closed his eyes and you knew the conversation was over for him. 

"You're already risking it," you whispered but he didn't hear it. Or maybe he just pretended not to.

Your patience was running thin. How could you forgive the way he'd suddenly disappear during dinner due to 'emergencies' that he never explained to you? How could you ignore the smell of iron on his coat? How could you pretend not to see the injuries on his body, from the bloody knuckles to the dressed wound on his shoulder? You knew Sunwoo genuinely liked you. It showed in all the little ways he cared and maybe it showed most in the way he tried to keep you out of the troubles he was involved with. But you didn't want him to be kept out of trouble. You weren't as fragile and breakable as he made you out to be and you were convinced you could handle whatever dark truth he was hiding. If only he would let you. 

When you saw him reach for the juice on the coffee table during movie night, flinching when the movement put a strain on his injured shoulder, you finally broke.

"I can't do this anymore," you said quietly, your serious voice not matching the atmosphere of the lighthearted movie at all. "You have to tell me the truth. Or leave."

"We've had this so many times. Why are you so keen on knowing? Weren't the secrets what drew you to me in the first place?" 

"No," you replied a little too quickly, just to backpedal a second later. "Maybe. But I don't want that anymore, Sunwoo. I'm tired of secrets."

He pressed his lips together. "This is all I can give, though."

This outcome wasn't unexpected, and yet hearing him say it still hurt. You didn't want to give up, you didn't want to lose him, but you knew that things couldn't continue like this.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice weak and shaky. "We're over then."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again, at a loss for the right words. 

"I'll go to my friend's place for a few hours," you continued. "I expect you to be gone when I'm back."

You already felt the tears brimming at your eyes, but you had to stay strong, at least until you made it out the door. You picked up your phone from the coffee table and got up to leave, a part of you hoping for a reason to stay even now. The movie was still running, the roaring laughter of one of the characters filling the unbearable silence between the two of you. This was really it, you thought to yourself, but the realization wasn't really sinking in. After all the time you'd spent together, how could it just end like this? How could he—

"I'm not a good person," Sunwoo suddenly pressed out, the desperation in his voice making you stop in your tracks. You almost let out a sigh of relief. 

"I know that," you replied after a beat. Because it was true, you'd known all along, even without him telling you the details. 

"No, you don't." 

You turned around to him. "Then explain it to me." 

"I can't. You'll leave, if I do."

"Well, I'm definitely leaving if you don't."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "It seems no matter what I do you will leave me."

"Maybe. But there is only one way to find out." 

He ruffled his hair, clearly agonizing over what to do or say, before he finally brought himself to speak.

"I just—," he started and you didn’t think you'd ever heard his voice so fragile before, "it's okay if the world is looking at me with contempt, fear, disgust… But just you—I don't care about anyone else, but I wouldn’t be able to take it if you started to look at me differently."

You sat back down on the couch with him, trying to meet his gaze, but he avoided eye contact. "I won't."

"You don't know that."

"But I know that I love you," you whispered, squeezing his hand in yours. "What could possibly change that?"

At your words, he finally looked up, eyes wide and surprised. "Do you?"

"I do. If you'll let me."

He stared at you in silence for another moment, searching your face for a trace of insincerity, for any reason not to trust you. But he came up empty.

"Okay," he finally whispered. "What do you want to know?"

"Your job, for starters."

He scrunched up his face in discontent, but he let you continue.

"And you need to introduce me to your friends, at least one. And you need to let me go to your place."

Sunwoo clearly didn't like any of this, rubbing the bridge of his nose, before eventually letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine. I'll tell you everything. And I'll take you to my place, too. It's not very homely though."

"We can make it homely."

That put an actual smile on his face and it made you want to kiss him. 

"But let's take things slow, please. This is—it isn't easy for me."

"Okay," you nodded, before leaning in and leaving a small peck on his lips. "Let's take it slow. But don’t go back on your word."

His smile widened as he kissed you back, his hand naturally coming up to your jaw. "I promise I won’t," he replied between kisses.

"How can I be sure of that?"

"Because I love you, too."

Masterlist

#sunwoo x reader #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x gn!reader #sunwoo fic #tbz fic #tbz x reader #kpop scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenarios #kebbis.writing #tbz angst #mafia au #tbz drabble #sunwoo drabble #tbz writing

[luimagines]

Hiya! Its me again, I submitted the story of Mask (Young adult! Time) pining after his rebellion leader (aka future spouse), and have come with a follow up >:)

Months have passed since Mask's..."confession"...to the group. Since then, most of the boys have been trying to start conversations that might set off Mask into another lovestruck rant (much to Time's dismay). Though this time around Mask is much harder to crack, only giving away small details about you and what type of relationship you two have. What they do learn is that you were a badass! Not only did you lead a rebellion against Ganondorf (as a teenager but they don't know that) but you also wielded some sort of shadow magic. This certainly caught their attention, considering they had no clue you had such abilities!

Mask always sings your praise, he really could go on forever! But the last thing he wanted was someone using that information against you. So he spoke little about his personal relationship with you, but it was easy to see how close the two of you were.

---

It was a peaceful morning for the group, well rested and full bellies was a promising start to the day! They were traveling either Mask's or Time's Hyrule, it was kinda hard to tell considering they were only surrounded by woods with no landmarks that could tell what era it was. Everyone was in high spirits for the day, even Time! The thought of coming back home to you and your welcoming arms was a pleasant thought.

Well- That went to shit quite quickly. They hadn't even walked for two hours before they were ambushed by a hoard of grotesque monsters. Their twisted, gnarly weapons bludgeoned and bruised the ten heroes. Many of them struggled to stand as they were circled, surrounded by all sides.

The group looked to one another, hoping someone had some idea or plan to get them out of this mess. Yet everyone struggled to form a plan while being battered from all sides, all expect Mask. He knew it was a risk, he didn't even know if this was his Hyrule! But one thing Mask knew was that you'd protect him, all he had to do was ask. All he had to do was scream your name. And so, he screamed. His voice ripped through his throat, piecing the sounds of battle. All of the boys faltered for a moment at Mask's sudden outburst, fearing for his safety. But soon they'd realize that they aren't the ones who should be fearful. Suddenly, the early morning turned to dusk -or at least it felt like it did- as the trees loomed over them, their shadows stretching far and wide.

The battle comes to a halt, both Hylian and monster alike not daring to move an inch. Mask -who stood in the middle of this battlefield- let out a shaky breath, a hearty smile stretching from ear to ear. And before the heroes know it, dark tendrils burst from these shadows and lash out! They grip onto the savage beasts, squeezing so tight some poof into purple smoke. For those unlucky to survive the deadly hold, they get dragged from the field and deep into the inky shadows. Most screech and slash at the shadows to break free, but their attempts are futile.

As the last beast is pulled into the endless void the shadows finally retreat. Soon the sun shines down on the bloodied heroes once more, but even the sun's warmth can stop the shiver that went down their spines. One question hangs in the air. What the hells just happened?

Mask couldn't contain his excitement, the grin on his face clear as day! He goes to call out for you once more expecting you to be hiding among your fellow shadows but is met with a cold hand over his mouth. A muffled yelp catches everyone's attention once more and weapons are drawn once more. Yet as they turn towards to face this new threat they are met with a...unusual sight, one none really expected (well, Time did but shh).

Mask and a familiar -but younger- figure face to face, mere inches between each other, looking intensely into the other's eyes. Your hand still rested over his mouth but he made no effort to remove it, to remove you. To an outsider's eye, this would have looked like a hostage situation (and maybe it was) but after a moment of looking over Mask and his injuries, you let your hand trail down the side of his neck and rest on his shoulder.

Finally, you acknowledge the rest of the heroes, who stood awkwardly to the side during this silent conversation. And boy, Mask sure as hell wasn't lying about how stunning you were. You scanned the group with your eyes, like you were analyzing every detail of them and taking notes of their weaponry (you totally were). The boys can't help but sweat under your gaze, even Time feels a little uneasy in this moment but he had to admit it was good to see your face again, younger or not.

You're the first to speak up and introduce yourself to the strange group while Mask does not leave your side. A stupidly obvious grin on his face as he just watches you with so much adoration in his eyes. And suddenly, the nine heroes come to the realization that this is their fate. Having to deal with a lovesick, dramatic Mask and the subject of said love.

Time can't help but groan inwardly, the boys are never going to let him live this down. (I hope you liked this and sorry for any spelling errors! Have a lovely day!)

I thought the first half was on the masterlist! DX I wanted to link it but I don't know where it is. I'm sorry. :(

OOOOOhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Old Man Time is going to have the headache of a life time!

But we also get to explore Reader's reaction to said Older Time!!! :D

The boys are going to be so nosey XD

Mask doesn't know what he's in for... or maybe his rose tinted ten inch thick glass won't let him see anything else. Time has to deal with all of it though. There's no escape for him.

#pinky replies #anon stories #This one *will* be on the masterlist though #I think it's long enough :D

[kkarmiic]

mirage anon here! naming myself how quaint today has been kinda shitty so could I get some good ol Mirage comfort after a really, really bad day? I'm talking the worst day possible-- outfit ruined, bad hair day, just EVERYTHING going wrong?? thank you if you end up doing this <33

# ‘TOMORROW - MIRAGE X GN!READER COMFORT

🫐 ‘CONTENT AND WARNINGS

\\ synopsis: everything that can go wrong, goes wrong, mirage is there to help

+* genre: fluff/comfort

‘# warnings: eye pulling, self doubt, he calls you love

// authors note: hey mirage anon! I’m sorry to hear about your shitty day, I understand how those feels, I hope this helps at least a little.

Your day had been downright awful, down to every single detail. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything was already horrific. You had seemingly slept in a weird position that night, evident by the dull ache in your shoulder and neck.

To make matters worse, you were already twenty minutes behind schedule, you had slept through your alarm. Fuck. Stomping over to your mirror, rolling your shoulder in a feeble attempt for the pain to disappear, you realized how obvious your dark circles were and how your hair stuck out in directions you didn't even know were possible.

Of course, you tried to push it aside, telling yourself it could be fixed with a little concealer and styling. That, however, did so little to help with your situation. The concealer had run out the day prior and your hair would just not lay how you wanted it.

Just your luck.

Tonight was supposed to be your date with Mirage, it was quaint, sure, he was going to make you a homecooked meal and you two were planning on watching the stars, but still, what would he think of you if he saw you like this?

It was only early days in your relationship, about a month in, and you weren't prepared for his perception of you to change, for him to see you as lazy, or a slob.

You were far too stressed out for ten in the morning, pulling your eyes down and just... Staring. Staring at yourself in the mirror, criticizing your appearance.

You know what they say, when things are at their lowest they can only go up.

Wrong. You were on a Ferris wheel, locked into your seat with no way of escaping, on a constant round of low, and high and low and high, with seemingly no end. It was exhausting, and you just wanted to get off.

So there you were, wearing your favourite outfit, hoping it would lift your spirits a little, and hopefully distract Mirage, at least a small amount. And it did, only for a mere moment though, you were halfway to Mirage's when the rain began pouring down, and this happened to be the one day where you didn't bring your umbrella, too focused on being late, and the way you looked, to even worry about checking the weather forecast.

Hands trembling as you walked, you reached for your phone in your pocket, before realising, that wasn't there either.

Panic. That was the only word to describe what you felt at that moment, pure panic. Had you dropped it somewhere? Maybe on the way to his? You were too late to turn back now, someone probably would've picked it up by now, and maybe it was already stolen. Maybe-

You left it on your bedside table, next to your umbrella.

Nonetheless, you kept walking, and you couldn't tell what was rain and what was tears after a certain point. They were so perfectly blended, heart aching as you walked.

Mirage, no, Elliot, you reminded yourself, always looked so perfect, with his neatly formed curls, and clear skin, you'd never seen him with one blemish, or eyebags like you, or with his hair askew. What would he think of you?

You had half a mind to turn back now, go home, and text him, faking that you were sick. But he'd probably turn up at your door instead, that was the kind of man he is, a gentleman.

Elliot couldn't worry about you, it wouldn't be fair to put him through that, and that's how you ended up on his doorstep, even despite all your worries. Placing three tentative knocks before it was quickly swung open, it seemed like he'd been waiting for you.

However, his smile quickly faded to a frown, of concern or disappointment, you couldn't tell.

"You're going to get s- uh- soa-" He paused, readjusting, instead of correcting his sentence, he ushered you in, he knew you knew him well enough to understand what he meant.

"Are you okay?!" He asked, shutting and locking the door behind you, hand placed gently on your bicep, feeling the soaked fabric of your shirt.

You wanted to tell him no, about how awful your day was, about how everything seemed to be going wrong, about how the whole world was against you, but you didn't. "Yeah... Just forgot my umbrella." You muttered, offering him a shrug of your shoulders, but that didn't seem to convince him, not one bit.

"How about you go upstairs? Get a hoodie and some sweats. You left some here last time. Or you could get changed into mind. I- Uhm- I don't... I don't mind." He took a shuddery breath, covering the pink tint on his cheeks.

"Anyways! I'll have a warm drink down here when you're done, okay?" He offered a soft smile towards you, already beginning to make your drink of choice.

When you returned downstairs, your drink was sat in your usual seat, the smell of food wafting from the oven making your mouth water.

"Want to talk?" He asked, cocking his head, waiting on your answer, and when you didn't respond he continued. "I can see something's buggin' ya. If you need to talk I'm always in your corner."

The compassion he was showing you was too much, he was too nice, and that was too much. You cried for the second time today, choking on your sobs as you tried to tell him about how shitty your day was, but nothing was coming out.

Mirage's eyes widened in shock, rushing round to your side before taking the seat next to you, a firm hand resting on your back, rubbing slow circles. "Take your time, love." He was ever so patient with you, you could never ask for more.

"I've just- I've just had the worst day today." You choked, covering your face with your hands. "I woke up and I obviously slept in a funny position, my whole body hurts." You began recounting your day. "I even left my fucking phone at home, like an idiot!"

There was a moment's silence before he moved his body to be facing yours, pulling your stool closer to his, and grasping your hands. "Darling. You're not an idiot. We all have bad days and that's fine. Sometimes you need a few days, to recover or... For it to just pass." He rested his forehead against yours, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

"No matter what, I'm right by your side. Tomorrow will be better. Swear on it."

POSTED BY: APOLLO

#apex legends x gn reader #apex legends x male reader #mirage x reader #elliot witt x reader #apex legends x reader #mirage x gn reader #mirage x male reader #elliot witt x gn reader #elliott witt x male reader

[howlingday]

How about some Jaune Strife and Yang fluff (I need the positivity at the moment)

Jaune panted as he sat up in his bed. His safe, warm, comfortable bed. He felt around his legs and sighed in relief. No accidents tonight. He looked to the time and saw it was still early.

It was Saturday, which means no classes. He climbed out of bed, accepting that he wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. He shut his eyes and he could still see the fire.

After rushing through his morning routine, he crept out of the dorm. He looked back to his team sleeping soundly. Pyrrha cuddled her pillow, probably dreaming about a crush. Ren slept under undisturbed sheets, envious of how peaceful his sleep was. Nora snored partially into her drool-soaked pillow, her butt pointed high in the air. With a smile, he left without anyone noticing.

"Wassup, Lady Killer?" Jaune flinched and whirled at the voice. Yang smiled in the dimly lit halls at Jaune, giving a small wave to him. "You're up early."

"Y-Yeah." He sighed. "I couldn't sleep." Yang quirked a brow. "I mean, I could- or, well, I did, but..."

"Easy, Vomit Boy." Yang held up a hand. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Thanks." He took a deep breath. "What are you doing up?"

"I promised your mom I would drop by this morning for some early morning practice." Jaune then noticed the duffel bag. "You wanna join me?"

"Sure." They began walking down the hall. "I kinda need to ask Mom something anyway."

"Like what?" Yang asked, holding back her teasing to avoid him telling Tifa and getting a twenty-minute speed round on the bag.

"I, uh, had a bad dream." Oh, he was making this so hard for her.

"Uh, what, uh-" Yang exhaled to avoid being caught smiling. "What was your dream about?"

"My parents being murdered."

"Oh." That was a hell of a way to shift a mood. Yang was no stranger to nightmares, especially ones involving the death of a parent. The weeks after Summer died were the worst of her young life. She wouldn't call herself an expert on the subject, but she could help with an open ear. She just needed one thing from him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jaune was quiet for a long while. He didn't say anything until they were already on the ground floor from the elevator. But the second the doors opened, so did he.

"Yeah, I think it'll help." He swallowed and Yang stayed close the entire walk. "Everything started out dark, but then everything was on fire. I heard a scream, and Mom was on the floor. Then I saw Dad fighting some guy against the flames. He even pulled out his super-move, but then..."

"Jaune?" Yang tapped his balled up hand, and he exhaled. "You good?"

"Yeah." He huffed. "After Dad, then guy came for me. I wanted to run away, but," Jaune shook his head, "I couldn't even move."

"It might have been the sheets."

"Huh?"

"Your bed sheets." Yang explained. "Sometimes when I can't run in my sleep, it's because my legs are wrapped up in my sheets."

"Uh, y-yeah, I guess."

"Sorry, I thought explaining it would help you deal- er, cope with it."

Jaune chuckled as they approached the bullhead station. "You're a terrible therapist."

"At least I'm trying!" Yang pouted, sitting down with a huff.

"I know." He sat next to her. "And I'm glad you're here with me."

The way he smiled at her, and the way he said that, it all made her heart beat faster. Choosing to ignore this feeling, Yang coughed into her fist and looked away.

"Keep going. I'll, uh, look out for a bullhead."

"Well, after that, I just woke up. I don't remember much else."

"What about what he looked like?"

"Well, it was dark-"

"But there was a fire, and your dad fought him using his sword, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Did the other guy catch it with his hand or something?"

"No, he had a sword, too." The memory became clearer to him. "A really long one. Kind of like a katana."

The bullhead docked, and they boarded. Yang rubbed Jaune's back as they departed. He sat next to garbage can furthest from the pilot, as he was scolded to do so many times before. As Yang rubbed, she noticed how broad his back was, and how thick the mucles in her grasp were. Blushing again, she looked away. Jaune didn't throw up this time, which he was proud of.

"Anything else about him?" Yang asked as they left the station. "Was it a him?"

"I think so, yeah." Jaune nodded. "He mumbled something but I can't remember what. His voice was kind of gravelly."

"Anything else?" Yang asked.

"Yeah, but I don't know if you'd believe it if I told you." He shook his head. "I can't even believe it."

"Hit me." Yang said.

"He had a wing."

"Like a Faunus wing?"

"No, his was," Jaune scrunched his brow, "bigger, and not part of his arm. And he only had one."

"Hm..." Yang rounded the corner, now a block away from their destination. "Sounds like a wuss to me."

"Huh?"

"This guy in your dream. He sounds really pathetic, when you think about it. I mean, he has a really long katana, a deep, gravelly voice, and only one wing. It sounds like a guy who's always losing."

"But my dad-"

"Was probably caught off guard. It was dark, right? He probably snuck up on him in the shadows instead of fighting like a real man." She punched his shoulder. "Heck, you could probably beat him, so there's nothing to worry about!"

"Thanks, Yang." They stopped in front of the bar/training gym. Jaune hugged her, giving a good squeeze with it. "For everything."

"N-No problem." Yang felt light-headed, but in a good way. The warm hug reminded her a lot of the ones back home. The ones she got from her dad... and her mom. She returned the hug with hum.

"Ahem!" The two separated as Tifa glared at the two of them, but mostly at Yang. ESPECIALLY Yang. "Jaune, I'm glad you came to visit. Yang, you're late."

"Oh, really, I, uh-"

"It's my bad, Mom." Jaune spoke up. "Yang was helping me with something, so we kind of got distracted."

"Mm, alright." Tifa turned away. "Your father is still asleep, so we'll try to keep it down."

After she walked inside, Yang let out a sigh. "Thanks for the save."

"No problem." Jaune smiled. "You'd save me if I needed it, right?"

"Yeah." Yang smiled back. "Yeah, I would."

#rwby #rwby au #jaune arc #yang xiao long #dragonslayer #jaune strife au #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #tifa lockhart

[nogenderbee]

Sliding in for the event. Congratulations btw!

Could I have angst to fluff with Zhongli using the song Love is Gone by Dylan Mathew and SLANDER?

The lyrics I chose are:

Don't go tonight

I need you now by my side

It tears me up when you turn me down

I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me

I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy

Please tell me if I did anything wrong!

Don't worry, you did it all well! I know I took my sweet time with it but it's here! Yay! I kinda just did fluff to... dark content (seriously people, stop giving me song with angst chance, I'm having too much fun) but then back to fluff and comfort so I hope you don't mind that and that you'll still enjoy this <3

Zhongli - Love is Gone

TagList: @bleachtheidiot

Song:

Don't go tonight I need you now by my side

You were just in Zhonglis arms while ray of sun rising could be seen through the curtains. Although you had a mission which happened to start on early morning. Your lover seemed to not like that idea and realy wanted you to stay in bed for just a bit longer...

"Love, you still have a lot of time before start of it, please let us enjoy this moment for a little bit longer..."

It's not like you didn't wanted, you did so very much but you knew that you had to get yourself ready before the start of it so you wouldn't come unprepared. So of course you had to go, if your lover liked it or not...

It tears me up when you turn me down

He really wasn't found of that idea... he heard from you and other citizens of Liyue that this mission will be dangerous one and it hurted him to let you go there alone... so of course he suggested himself. He hoped that with him by your side, you'll be safer. He couldn't let even thought of you being in danger.

"At least allow me to accompany you there. I simply wish to be there by your side and make sure you're safe."

"I'm sorry but I don't think they have any more space for another adventurer..."

He didn't wanted to allow that but he understood, he understood that sudden extra member might be a trouble so he let that go. He made sure your equipment contains everything you need and packed some extra stuff, not too much to make its weight noticeable but he just wanted to make sure you're prepared for whatever's waiting for you there.

I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me

Zhongli waited patiently for you to come back... no matter if those were days, weeks or even more... he waited for you knowing that you'll come back. And you did! But in what state... He was so overjoyed when he heard you came back from mission but when he heard you're under doctors eye, his joy was immidietly covered by worry. He ran over there as fast as he could while hoping that it's nothing serious.

When he saw you laying there on bed with so many serious injuries, he fell to his knees and jus held your hand while tryig not to cry too much but he failed... it all just came to him... Maybe if he was more persistent you'd let him tag along and he could protect you? Why didn't he do that? He just blames himself for not coming with you. He heard from doctors that you'll get out of it but he hates seeing you in so much pain, he simply can't rest untill you'll fully recover.

I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy

But then you finally recovered, you were on your legs again and ready to take onto another mission. Or so you thought... there's no way that your lover will let you even go out of your house on your own for first few days. Please don't think of him like of a creep, he's just worried about you. It goes double on taking any missions, he doesn't allow you to take any dangerous one and goes on any mission with you.

"You need to rest, darling. Please take it easy for at least first week or 2... you've just recovered from serious injuries."

Since then, he holds you so close when you fall asleep together or wake up. There's not a single morning when he let's you out of bed immediately, you two simply have to cuddle for a little longer so you can know that this moment is real and so he can know that you're safe in his arms.

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

#genshin impact #x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli x reader #fluff #angst #genshin fluff #genshin angst #songfic #song fic #song fics

[scrumptiousassbtch]

I've been collecting songs for my Sebaciel playlists, and its still on 28 minutes lmao. Here are some of the songs that I think perfectly suits them:

1. Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

This is screaming SEBACIEL! No further explanation.

Early this morning When you knocked upon my door And I said hello Satan, ah I believe it is time to go Me and the devil walkin' side by side

2. Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Ray

I personally don't like this song before but then I discovered Sebaciel. I literally wept when I realized how this song suits them. (I like the orchestral ver. more)

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

3. Dark Paradise by Lana Del Ray

More on the angsty side. Sebastian missing Ciel, years after he had consumed his soul. Because, come ooon. It is somehow inevitable, sebaciel isn't canon(and it hurts). I'am somehow(we all are) hoping that the canon Sebastian holds affection for our Ciel.

Basically the entirety of the song, but here's the part where it hurts more

Loving you forever can't be wrong Even though you're not here, won't move on Ahh That's how we played it And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody It won't leave my head Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine But I wish I was dead (dead, like you) Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise No one compares to you I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

4. Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish

This one right here! Literally soft sebaciel people *sobs*. I can imagine Sebastian saying this to Ciel(I know kinda OOC, but let me indulge)

I had a dream I got everything I wanted But when I wake up, I see You with me And you say "As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to If I could change the way that you see yourself You wouldn't wonder why you hear 'They don't deserve you'"

5. The Fruits by Paris Paloma

I really love this one because of how it screams feminine rage, but then someone here on tumbler(I can't find it) points out that this song is also kind of Sebaciel coded and I couldn't agree more.

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him I have no time for confession For I'm too busy committing sins My love, you're something special I've never met someone like you You'd make me fall from heaven But I know just what I do

6. Skyfall by Adele

Oh come on, this one right here. The song when the inevitable happens(I don't want to imagine it. It hurts)

This is the end Hold your breath and count to ten Feel the Earth move and then Hear my heart burst again For this is the end I've drowned and dreamt this moment So overdue, I owe them Swept away, I'm stolen

Where you go, I go What you see, I see I know I'd never be me Without the security Of your loving arms Keeping me from harm Put your hand in my hand And we'll stand

Bonus Song(lmao):

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

It's because of that damned(affectionate) fanfic on ao3! I actually wasn't able to finish it because of how graphic the violence is. But I can assure you its really good, I'm just a weaksht ass. The writing and the plot is superb.

For those who want to read it(Im sure everyone has read it already), it's The Great Northern by bun_o_ween

And I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me? Summer's hot but I've been cold without you I was so wrong not to tell, I'm in regine, tangerine dreams Catch me if you can Working on my tan Salvatore Dying by the hand Of a foreign man Happily Calling out my name In the summer rain Ciao amore

I hope it's not that obvious that I like Lana, lol(It was actually unintentional)

Anyway, here's the playlist. Enjoy Sebaciel enjoyers love lots 🖤.

#sebaciel #sebaciel playlists #Spotify

[prismatic-souls]

Prompt: (Much like before, You have creative freedom with this as long as I am credited)

"Silently, She scooped up the tiny thing and placed in onto the throne that the hollow knight once sat in, as orange infection wrapped around the unconscious vessel, Binding them to her dreams"

Silently, delicately, she picked up the little vessel. Gently placing them on the throne that their taller sibling once held. She would have to teach this one how to communicate, but perhaps there was a different method of communication that could be used.

Vines of infection surrounded them, and lightseeds clumped around them, creating a cocoon of her power. Bound to her dreams, they would never return to the darkness of their void again.

-

They were vaguely aware of what was happening. Unconscious in a dream, yet they could still vaguely see what was happening, they could feel what was happening around them, but they couldn't move.

The Radiance, curse her, had placed them on a throne, and vines had begun to surround them. Lightseeds had grouped and clustered around them, locking them in a cocoon. They fought her power within their mind, refusing to let it corrupt their whole mind. The light of her dreams was horrible, and they did not want to see it again. The only time they would want to see it was when her light would die out of the minds of the innocent bugs of Hallownest.

The void that made their body sizzled from the sheer temperature of the infection. Her dreams were already disgustingly warm, this was just torture. No matter how infected their mind, they would forever resist until their time ran out. She would not have their mind.

A oath more powerful than them, more powerful than her. An oath like that, one ingrained into their body was one that could not easily be broken. A gateway and two roads, which path would they take? Would they take the path of being her knight, siding with her and heralding the infection, or would they fulfill their purpose and destroy her?

A choice made, and a battle won; powers of the mind are not to be messed with.

---

Been a little while since I included footnotes! So hello, hello, hello! The reason I've been kinda dropping these off is when I answer these, I don't typically have the time to add the notes. Cause I'm either on my lunch break or it's early morning/late afternoon.

Thank you (as always) for giving me all these writing prompts, they've been holding off writer's block. I love taking time to answer these.

I really like the split "perspective" thing I do, with the third limited over Ghost and the pov over the Radiance. The one where I more so described what happened.

I recently made a post of me explaining the simple last sentence I include, but this time I added a whole paragraph before it. I think you can clearly tell where we switch from being third person limited over Ghost, to more of a general narration. I liked that bit a lot, because it reminded me of something with my own characters and their story.

I'd like to think that the final sentence adds even more mystery than the other one-liners in the other ones. It leads someone down different ideas, one that can create a story within your mind.

Thanks so much wyrms-tale!

[dzpenumbra]

1/27/23

Last night was a highlight reel of annoying and frustrating things that cats do, and of course it's the night that my cat is drugged up for her vet appointment the next morning. Of course that's the night she needs to try to jump her arthritic ass up an obstacle course to the bathroom sink to drink from the sink three times.

It was a late night. I got up early, got everything I needed done, shoveled the car out. The guy plowing the parking lot made some comment about how I've been "gone awhile". I have no idea if he was talking about how much snow was piled up on the car I never use, or the fact that my car has a big dealership sticker on it from a town very far away and he's likely seen it over and over this winter, knowing it's obviously a rental. Either way... like... is that an ice breaker or something? Like... what was that guy trying to communicate? I don't really understand. Like, I get it's a joke or something, but like... he just kept driving... XD Like, didn't even say "hi". Kinda rude, if you ask me. I don't know, people are weird, I guess. I don't know, that was just really confusing for me. I'm not really used to people talking to me, let alone cryptic jokes like that.

Went to the vet appointment. It was very quick, I was spacey as hell for some reason, really couldn't focus. I had a list of two things I needed to talk about when I was there written on my fucking hand. Food. Fountain. I wanted to check on whether my cats prescription food is auto-refilling and/or being sent to my apartment... and get a recommendation of a fountain for her, because she really doesn't like drinking from her bowl anymore, I think it hurts her hips. And I really need to get her to stop drinking from the bathroom sink. I didn't ask fucking either of them. I completely spaced out. I could barely answer the question she had about the nighttime meds she's getting. I was supposed to double the dosage a while back and I just... didn't? For some reason? I still can't even remember why, it was like 3 weeks ago. Maybe because I didn't want to be inconsistent with times or something? I don't know. Either way, I didn't do it. It's not the end of the world. The whole appointment was like 10 minutes. And the roads were horrible. They just took her to the back and drew her blood and then we left. So yeah, that's over with for now. We'll see what the blood results look like.

I got home and worked on some stream stuff for a bit. It went well, it's looking good. Then I said fuck it and went skating. It had been snowing most of the day, I waited for it to get dark and colder so the snow would firm up. Good call. The conditions were great. I didn't land a lot of new tricks today, but I landed one of the best moving kickflips of my life. I got a FS 1 down the 2 set, which was a nice change, that's a new trick for me. I tried switch ollie and laughed audibly at how horrible I am at riding switch. I skated the 4-set for a while. I might actually start my sessions going to the 2 or flat for a little to get the muscles warmed up, then right to the 4. I noticed that my confidence in landing, my commitment to my tricks, was substantially better after I skated the 4.

I also had a fun little run set up where I cleared the 4, then made a sharp roller down the two (instead of clearing it) to pump down, then cleared the next 4 set. That was a really cool feeling. Like, two days ago I had never ollied anything this big, now I've cleared it at least a dozen times and cleared it twice back-to-back in a line. I can just feel my hips and lower back fighting me and holding me back on a lot of this stuff. But I can tell very clearly that the yoga is making a very big difference, and I'm really glad I've committed to it.

I battled with a kickflip down the 2-set a bit. I came really close a few times, but I really struggled to commit to it. Mind-games. The same with 3-shuv, which was really pissing me off because I used to have that trick completely locked down, like every try. Now, it just feels like I'm just hucking it and praying I land on it. I really can't wait to get more of a sense of board control. It feels much easier to get that on a skateboard than a snowskate, the snowskate can just slide out in such unpredictable ways, especially on really slick packed snow or ice.

After skating the park, I walked up the hill and went over to the sidewalk leading down to my street. It was covered in a nice thin layer of snow and no salt or sand, which is perfect. There was a guy ahead of me on the sidewalk with earbuds in so he didn't hear me, but it was a good excuse to go slow and not bomb the hill like I was tempted to... which turned out to be a good idea, because most of the sidewalk was slanted so I was constantly slipping towards the road. That whole "slide out in such unpredictable ways" thing. But it was fun, because it was like... real street skating with a snowskate, which I haven't done in ages.

I really can't stress enough how happy I am to be skating again. And to have terrain available that I have never skated before. I'd love it if I had a kicker or a box or something too, I miss doing slides and whatnot, but I feel like the change in terrain is pushing me outside of my comfort zone to adapt my style to what is available. Like... what am I going to do next down the 4 set? Ollie still scares me! I was thinking maybe I could figure out how to Airwalk? Is that too ambitious? Indy is just too far of a reach for my back. Shuv seems really scary, to be honest. Kickflip just seems ridiculous. I can't even kickflip the 2 set yet. So it's like... how do I up the ante? Front 1? Maybe? I don't know. It's a real test of my willingness to push myself. But this park is really great for like.. incrementally learning how to skate stairs. There's a spot that's basically a flat to bank that you can use as a natural kicker and roll away with some nice speed, so you get used to landing, riding away and carrying speed. There's the 2 set to start getting used to gapping out and down stuff. The 4 set is like... a real stair set. There's a 2 block that could be doable with a ramp leading up to it, I think, but it's like... the width and height of the 4 set but you really gotta send it to clear that whole thing. Then there's the 7 right uphill from the 4 I've been skating. And there's a 6 at the bottom of the hill with a nice run-up to it, but the landing has like 12 feet and then it just dumps right out into (usually) heavy traffic. I haven't felt brave enough to take that on yet.

So yeah, I got Applebee's delivered and curled up with the cat for the rest of the night. Worked on some more stream stuff. And now I'm completely exhausted so I'm heading to bed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness